


Loving Shards

by GilbertsMangoes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Different Sides, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hinny, I promise, Its not as dark as it sounds, Lots of it, Self-Harming Draco Malfoy, Slow Burn, TW: Self Harm, War, because this fic isn't going to be controlled by the TERF named JK Rowling, bisexual! Pansy Parkinson, bluna, brightest witch of her age, but still forced to live with each other, but they love each other - Freeform, don't read if you're sensitive to that kind of stuff, dramione - Freeform, hermione helps him heal, not resorting, take care of your mental health is a lesson draco learns too late, thansy, the boy who had no choices, they hate each other at first, they're on different sides
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 48,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24808231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilbertsMangoes/pseuds/GilbertsMangoes
Summary: Hermione is stranded at a broken Hogwarts, both of her best friends gone to destroy Horcruxes without her. She feels her purpose is gone. Her life is shattered by the darkness of war.Draco is trapped in a world he doesn't want to be in. His and his family's life relies on loyalty to a world of pain, hate, and devastation. His life is shattered by his lack of choices.When situations force two dysfunctional enemies together, can two wrongs make a right? Can they manage to piece together each other's shards?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 92
Kudos: 87





	1. Prologue

Hermione woke with a start. For a moment, she almost thought that she was back at home, her mum shaking her awake with a warm smile and a cup of coffee, the smell of cinnamon waffles wafting through her room. She quickly realized that her walls were a dull maroon, not silver and baby pink. The woman standing over her was not one of 47, but a 16 year old with fire red hair, not graying brown. Her eyes were a bright brown, almost gold, not the dark chocolate she'd been anticipating.

She came to her senses, concluding that this was, in fact, Ginevra Weasley, not Monica Granger and that she was at the Burrow in wartime, not 1311 Carmen Circle on a tranquil winter morning.

"Ginny?" she murmured tiredly, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She blinked once, twice, getting used to the summer sunlight. "What's wrong?"

"It's... Harry... Ron... gone!" she cried, not being able to form coherent sentences through her tears. Her pale face was even more white than usual, except for her eyes which were an unusual shade of puffy red.

"What?" she said groggily, squinting at the red head. Hermione was the brightest witch of her age, but not at this time of the morning! The sun was just starting to peek its golden rays over the hilly mountainside that the rickety Burrow lay atop, the sky a brilliant picture of pinks and oranges and blues.

"See for yourself." Ginny pulled Hermione out of bed and led her down the hall and to the boys' room. There was not a single trace of cinnamon waffle, though the aroma of a late night cider with the boys ghosted through the house.

"Ginny, what on Earth are you doing? They could be doing something private in-Oh!" she gasped when Ginny threw open the door angrily. Harry and Ron's room looked...immaculate. Usually, the boys had clothes strewn around every surface they could possibly put it on, the floor a sea of various objects and the covers kept messing up to the point where no one bothered to try and clean it. The smell of their literal blood, sweat, and tears usually aromatized the place.

Now, the floor was pristine, not a spot of dirt marring it. Everything was sparkling with cleanliness and the beds were made, not an inch of the surface mussed. The furniture was polished clean and the room smelled fresh, like the pleasant scent of a rainy day. As far as the eye could see, it looked like not a soul haunted the place, not even the Weasley Ghoul. Even the shared wardrobe doors were flung open, the clothing gone from the closet. The only sign of habitation was two small envelopes resting on the beds.

"I... where-where are they?" Hermione asked, mouth agape. She half anticipated, hoped for them to pop out from under the Invisibility Cloak and have a laugh at hers and Ginny's expense.

"I'm guessing that's where these letters come in," Ginny guessed, picking up the one addressed to her gingerly, as if it might burst into flames at any moment. Hermione picked hers up from off Ron's bed too, turning it in her hands.

The only thing written on the envelope was her name, written in Harry's straight cut print handwriting. She could tell he had made a special effort to be neat, the usually choppy and therefore illegible letters now having a bit of intentional roundness to them.

"Do your mum and dad know?" Hermione asked breathlessly. Since she met them, Harry and Ron had been her family. She couldn't fathom why or how they'd disappear without her, the supposed brains of the operation. Had they been tolerating her all these years? Were all those 'Hermione, you're brilliant's falsities, made by them to stroke her fragile ego? Why would her closest friends-and more with Ron- leave her?

It hit her the hardest when she thought of what could've been. She and Ron had been so close to what she'd wanted, dreamed of, since fourth year. She remembered with a silent and humorless chuckle how sometimes she'd find herself experimentally tacking Weasley to the end of her name, noting with a scowl that the 'e' in her name clashed with the 'e' in Weasley.

They had crossed the line of friendship and were verging on a relationship just a couple nights ago after an awkward confession and a graceless attempt at snogging.

"Of course they do! They've gone to Grimmauld Place to inform the Order and the twins have apparated to Lee's house to inform Potterwatch of the recent... events."

"I suppose we should read these then."

"Fancy opening them together?" she asked, a small but humorless smile on her face.

"On three." She counted down and then with a breath, she opened the letter slowly, unfolding a piece of parchment.

_Dear Hermione,_

_You must be wondering why we've left without a warning. We're so sorry, but we have to do this as soon as possible. Don't be alarmed, we'll be alright._

_We're going for the Horcruxes. I hope you don't mind that we've taken your beaded bag, we figured you're bright enough to charm a new one._

_We would've taken you with us and we wanted to, but Shacklebolt said that you'd be better at Hogwarts as a spy for the Order. He said that they required your academic skill back at home. We'll write periodically, but nothing too incriminating in case our owls are intercepted. This next part is some messages from each of us._

_Harry: Hermione, I know you're probably overthinking right now. Stop and relax. We'll be fine and we'll write you every week to tell you we're okay. But just in case, I want you to know that you're like a sister to me and I love you in so many ways. Make sure Ginny takes care of herself and send my love to her. Don't get into too much of a mess and stay safe, alright? This isn't goodbye, just a see you later. The Golden Trio will prevail, like we always do._

_Ron: Mione, sorry we had to separate like this. I didn't want to leave you, I really didn't, especially after what happened 2 nights ago. I had high hopes for us. I'll be back and we can pick up where we left off, but for now, I think it's best if we stop whatever is happening between us. Send Gin and my brothers love. Don't go falling for someone else, okay? Don't worry too much and stay safe._

_We'll keep this short because we really need to leave now._

_After you read this, burn this letter. We can't risk it getting into You Know Who's hands. There's a Taboo on his name now._

_Love from the both of us,_

_the lesser 2/3 of this trio_

Hermione didn't realize she was crying until she noticed a droplet splash onto the parchment. Quickly, she wiped the moisture away and looked over at Ginny whose lip was trembling and holding something in her palm.

Hermione's curiosity got the best of her. "What's that?"

She took a shaky breath. "Harry said Remus gave it to him last night thinking he might want it. It was his mother's ring. He said... he said he wanted me to keep it. Just in case he..." Ginny couldn't help it. Though she was usually strong willed and tough teenager, she ran up to Hermione and threw her arms around the girl.

Hermione, surprised yet understanding of the affection, reciprocated slowly, resting her olive cheek on the girl's shoulder, thinking of all the pain yet to come.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione "meets" the Head Boy.

One month later...

"More bacon for you, dear?" Molly Weasley asked Hermione. There was a kind smile on her face, but on this morning especially, you could see the toll of losing a child and a surrogate child on her face. Her plump and buxom figure had lost some weight and her ginger hair was thinning the slightest bit. Her porcelain skin had purple shadows under her motherly brown eyes and her shock of red waves was more gray than ever..

"Just one, please," Hermione accepted, looking at the matriarch with affection. Molly had been such a gracious and kind host to her all these years(save for fourth year) and she couldn't help but love the woman. "I don't want to get sick on the train."

"You won't," Ginny snorted. "You'll be too busy reviewing this year's material for what... the fifth time?"

"Fourth," Hermione muttered, flushing bright red. "And it pays to be prepared! Especially this year with Snape as the headmaster. Luckily, the Ministry has held off from letting Death Eaters completely overrun the school, but I bet they'll be teaching us all their values."

"I reckon the Order has some kind of protection for you," Fred said, grabbing a muffin from the basket his mother had set on the table. "I don't think they'd let a bunch of 16 and 17 year old babies to a place controlled by You Know Who's main flunkey without guidance."

"Oh, come off it. You're only 19 and I'm 18 in three weeks," Hermione shot back good naturedly. "Babies, my arse."

"Language!" Molly chastised, then continued, "And actually," Molly remedied, biting down on her lip and dusting her hands on her apron nervously. "You'll be on your own like any other year. We don't want to waste resources on students that could be used for war."

"Are you kidding?" George started.

Fred continued to say, "That's a thousand students at risk."

"I mean, Hermione's still been made Head Girl despite being a muggle born. I'm sure it's not that bad," Ginny rationalized.

"You two can still stay home. It's not too late," Mrs. Weasley coaxed, not noticing how Hermione smiled when she referred to the Burrow as 'home' for Hermione also. Hermione needed a home right now, especially when her real parents were traipsing about Australia without her.

"Mum, relax," Ginny soothed, swallowing her toast. "We'll be fine. If something happens, we'll owl you. Plus, what kind of Order members in training would we be if we couldn't take a couple Death Eaters?"

"I know you two are capable of defending yourself, I'm just so used to seeing you as defenseless children." Molly planted a kiss on both their cheeks and sighed, looking at the powerful women that both of them had grown up into.

An owl flew through the kitchen window. It wasn't Errol, but a gracefully flying tawny owl, perching itself on the table. It had a Hogwarts seal envelope in its beak addressed to Hermione Granger.

"It's for you. Head Girl business, I reckon," George commented. "Though Bill, Charlie, and Percy never got a letter on the day of."

Hermione unfolded it and her eyes made quick work of the parchment.

Dear Ms. Granger,

Considering the circumstances this year, I humbly request your presence for a meeting with the Head Boy and myself before school starts on your ride to school. I will be in compartment 15P to discuss some changes that will be made.

Sincerely,

Professor Minerva McGonagall

Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor House

"She wants to meet on the train before school," Hermione said, putting the parchment down on the table. "To discuss something about changes with the Head Boy and I."

________________

"Bye, dearies," Mrs. Weasley bade, kissing Ginny and Hermione on their cheeks. "Oh Hermione, I can't believe this is your last year. I'm so proud of you for being Head Girl." With a tearful smile, she bade them goodbye as they hopped aboard the train.

Ginny and Hermione wandered the aisle, Hermione sporting her Head Girl badge proudly.

"I have to go to 15P, McGonagall wants to talk to me, remember?," she said, waving to Ginny as Ginny plopped herself down in Neville and Luna's compartment.

"Bye, 'Mione!" Hermione made her way to the front of the train and saw McGonagall sitting primly in a compartment. Hermione felt unwarranted relief wash over her. McGonagall was unchanged as ever, wearing her regular black robes, a brooch holding an emerald coat together. Her silver hair was hidden by a wizard's cap that was perched on her head.

She was one of the few constants in Hermione's quickly changing life.

Surprisingly, the Head Boy was already waiting, there before even her. He was a tall boy with a lean-but not thin or gangly- frame with firm muscles. By his trademark silky platinum blonde hair, she could tell who it was in an instant. Malfoy.

She looked back on her crush on him in third year with revulsion. She had been disgusted with herself back then too, he had always been a nasty bugger, but in third year, she found herself mildly drawn to him. He had gotten quite a bit taller and he had stopped slicking his hair back. That year, she wondered for the first time what it would've been like to run her hands through that silky blonde hair. His muscles had filled out and his steel gray eyes attracted girls like moths to a flame.

That little crush had come to an abrupt end when Lucius Malfoy wanted Buckbeak executed.

She really shouldn't have been surprised at him being Head Boy. He had top notch grades,-below her, of course- virtually a model student, and with the Ministry taken over, they had probably seen it fit to make a Death Eater Head Boy. A Death Eater who had almost killed Dumbledore. Her being Head Girl was probably on McGonagall's prerogative.

"Ah, Ms. Granger. Please, come sit." McGonagall cleared the seat across from her with a flick of her wand, moving Malfoy's trunk under the seat. He scowled, an expression that he wore often these days.

"Good morning, Professor." She took a seat, practically squishing herself against the glass compartment door in an effort to not touch him. He smirked at her squirming, looking at her mockingly. Her hand floated to her wand in her robe pocket instinctively, twirling the long stick threateningly. Draco's hand gripped his wand as well, the elegantly simple black wand in a death grip in his hand.

"That will not be necessary!" McGonagall reprimanded sternly. "You both may be of age now, but that is no excuse for enmity! Hogwarts is a family." Draco had the sudden urge to mutter something he would have gotten points docked for, despite not even being in school yet.

"Sorry, Professor," she muttered, drawing it back into her pocket but keeping her hand dangerously near it. What a sodding kissup, Draco thought. "Why did you call us here? It isn't customary, is it?"

"You're right about that, Ms. Granger," she praised. "I'm here to talk to you about a new initiative by the Ministry." The pinched look on her face made it clear that she did not approve.

"Oh?" he said, relatively disinterested. If it was that bad, someone would've mentioned it.

"All the sixth and seventh year students will be 'relocated' into small dormitories with 8 people each. "

"What?" Hermione exclaimed in disbelief. "We won't be sorted by house?" Draco looked up with disgust, his lip curling upwards in repulsion. His father hadn't heard about this! Or maybe he had and he had conveniently chosen to not tell him. He'd be forced to room with some pudding for brains sixth year with his luck! Or worse, Weasley.

"You've misunderstood me, Miss Granger. Houses will still be existent, but your rooms will be different. To promote 'the mingling of the superior blood class's values to students of adulterated blood'." The old woman tried her hardest to remain impassive, but anyone could see how she was in clear disapproval of the rule.

"To instill You Know Who's thought process into students by use of the influence of elitist Death Eaters," Hermione translated abruptly, a deep set frown on her face.

"That is not appropriate to discuss here," McGonagall reprimanded halfheartedly, though she affirmed it in a silent nod to Hermione when Draco was looking away.

"It would do some people good," Draco said pointedly, stealing a glance at Granger. He had nothing against her personally. Muggleborns weren't inherently bad like his father thought(That belief had been nipped in the bud after his first Death Eater meeting) but why would she voluntarily choose to be with perfect Potter and dirt poor Weasley? "To be around some better influences."

"Speak for yourself, ferret," she spat back. "Except for the fact that Daddy controls your every word, doesn't he? You're just vying for his approval."

"Same could be said for you and Weasel, Mrs. Hermione Weasley. Yes, we all saw your doodles in Potions. The 'E's clash a bit, don't you think?" Hermione was blushing furiously because she knew it was true.

"That's enough!" McGonagall interrupted. "For two model students, this is not acceptable behavior! The reason I called you here is because I wanted to inform you that you two must be role models for house unity in this new system!"

"Should be easy enough," Hermione huffed. There wasn't anybody she really despised besides the person next to her. "Who are we assigned to?"

"Obviously, you will be 2 of the people in your commons. You're Head Girl and Boy, it is only natural."

"What?" Hermione and Draco shouted at the same time, looking at the other with hateful glares.

"Of course, I thought you'd know. Remember your titles, you should set an example,"

"Fine," Hermione accepted grudgingly. "Who are the others?"

"Ginevra Weasley-"

"Great, a Weasley too," he interrupted. McGonagall shot him a death glare that sent shivers down his spine, despite her being a senior citizen.

"As I was saying, Ginevra Weasley, Blaise Zabini, Luna Lovegood, Theodore Nott, Neville Longbottom, and Pansy Parkinson."

"At least there's some bloody good people," he muttered, low enough for Hermione to shoot him a dirty look, but not loud enough for McGonagall to hear.

"That is all," the Professor said. "You may go." The two scampered out of the compartment as fast as they possibly could, wanting to get away from the other.

Unfortunately, they found themselves walking the same direction to find their friends.

"Ferret," she muttered.

"Bookworm," he retorted.

"Snob."

"Mudblood."

"Arse."

He paused a moment before deciding on "Know it all."

"Running out of creative insults, Malfoy?"

"You wish."

When Hermione found her friends, she opened the door slowly on purpose, obstructing his way.

"Do you mind?" he growled, rolling his slate gray eyes.

"No, thanks for asking." After a moment of painstakingly slow movement, she was finally inside her compartment, smirking smugly. With a decisive slam of the door, she left all thoughts of Draco Malfoy on the other side of the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you couldn't tell by the tags and this chapter, progress is going to be SLOW for these two. Especially since Draco's still using the M word.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco arrive at Hogwarts and see their new living arrangement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of sweet and sisterly Pansy instead of making her a whiny person and pitting her against Hermione. I might play around with the idea of Hermione getting jealous of her or Astoria later(when they don't hate each other with a passion) but being reassured.

The gargantuan castle could be seen from across the lake, but just barely. A shimmery gray haze of fog shrouded the already pitch black lake and across the forest of fog, you could make out the intricately designed Hogwarts. A spectator would not have been able to guess what had transpired at this school over the past few years. The orangey gold light shone as bright as ever and each brick and stone was in place, yet every student at the school sensed something looming over their heads. Something dark and dangerous, poised to strike them like a venomous snake.

Hermione and her friends were just getting off the train and Luna walked slowly over to one of the flying carriages and proceeded to stroke what seemed like empty air before hoisting herself on the carriage gracefully. Ginny followed her into the carriage, looking as confused as Hermione about what Luna was petting. Hermione followed with Neville. The carriage started to take off after they had boarded.

“The thestrals are looking more well-fed. I suspect more people are seeing them after all the attacks on muggleborns,” Neville said sadly. Luna nodded sympathetically, staring off into space. 

“Thestrals?” Ginny questioned, her brow furrowed. “You’re starting to sound like Luna.”

“Harry could see them,” Hermione offered. “I wonder why that is.”

“Only those who have witnessed death can see thestrals,” Luna explained in her typical dreamy fashion. “Neville’s grandfather, my mother, and with Harry, well…” She shrugged with a faraway look in her watery silver eyes.

“He’s seen his fair share of death,” Ginny finished. “Ron hasn’t, but I expect by the end of this, he will.”

There was a collective sigh over their missing friends, a sigh of remembrance and longing. 

“I miss them,” Hermione said, brushing a thick lock of hair behind her ear. She felt the burning behind her eyes intensify, moisture threatening to spill out if she wasn’t in control. This burning had manifested itself a lot lately.

“We all do,” Neville comforted, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “But I’m sure they’re fine.”

“I got a letter from them last week,” said Ginny. Hermione felt a jealous sting. They had written to Ginny, but not her? She admitted that it made sense. Ginny was Harry’s girlfriend and Ron’s sister, but what was she? Ron’s one time snog and Harry’s second best friends? A bad one, at that.

No, she disputed with herself. They love you, you’re just overreacting like you did in second year, she thought to herself. Her second year’s ride to Hogwarts had been a lonely one. She remembered seeing the Weasleys at the platform, but for now obvious reasons, Ron and Harry didn’t sit with her on the train. She spent the entire train ride telling herself that they must’ve gotten caught up somewhere else, trying to resist the urge to look for them, trying to block the thoughts that were telling her that they were avoiding her, that they wanted to be friends with a prettier and cooler girl, someone who wasn’t a know it all.

When they showed up at the Great Hall an hour late, the relief that washed over her was unimaginable. 

Ginny sensed her disappointment. “It was very short and snippy, really. All they said is that they were okay and to give their love to Hermione,” she comforted. “They must be up to their chins in danger right now.”

“I bet,” Hermione mumbled halfheartedly, looking towards the approaching castle. 

With each inch that they got closer, it seemed an inch closer to oblivion.

_____________________________

“Draco, you coming?” Pansy asked, a small sympathetic smile on her face as she climbed out of the train compartment. Draco’s ash gray eyes snapped to her face. If Luna’s eyes were a watery and fluid gray, his were the opposite. They were steel, like blocks of pure silver. They often revealed a lot of emotion, pain being the most prominent emotion in his hard eyes.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. He got up in one fluid motion and followed her, Theo, and Blaise to an empty carriage, careful that the loose sleeves on his emerald and black robes didn’t slip up. The carriage started for the castle.

His gaze landed on the creatures pulling the carriages. Huh, that’s new. They were like pegasi, but pitch black and distinctly reptilian, every bone in their lustrous body highlighted. They had a dragon like face with long and loping legs and almost translucent papery gray wings. Its eyes were a glittering ivory, like a sparkling diamond. 

He could’ve sworn that the last time he was here, the carriages pulled themselves. 

“What are you looking at?” Blaise asked him. 

“These bloody ponies,” he grumbled, showing off a scowl his father would approve of. “Was there not enough magic in the world for the carriages to keep pulling themselves?”

“Draco… are you alright? The carriages are pulling themselves like always. Do you have a fever?” Pansy asked, letting go of Theo’s hand to touch his forehead. He pushed it away with a fantastic roll of his eyes. Pansy shook her head disapprovingly. “Alright, keep rolling your eyes. Someday, maybe you’ll find a brain.”

Blaise and Theo laughed a bit before Theo’s face grew serious again.

“Draco’s half right. There are thestrals pulling the carriages, but they have been for a while,”

“They look as invisible as my will to live,” Blaise shrugged.

“Only people who have seen death can see them.” An eerie silence fell over the group and though Draco didn’t take his eyes off the hem of his robe, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him, full of sympathy. He didn’t need their sodding pity, he needed a way out of this hellish life of hate. 

“Oh,” Draco said darkly, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “That’s just bloody great! Now I have to live my entire life being sorry for myself.”

“C’mon, mate. You know you didn’t have a choice,” Blaise consoled.

“I know I didn’t. That’s why it’s so screwed up. It’s either screw over a bunch of mudbloods or die.” 

“I wish you’d stop using that word,” Pansy sighed, leaning into Theo’s arm. “I’m trying to disassociate myself from the Death Eaters and being friends with you isn’t really helping my case.”

“Oh, is big bad Draco Malfoy, the son of Lucius Malfoy, the big scary Death Eater ruining good and angelic Parkinson’s reputation? Poor saintly Pansy who left her family to go stay with her anti-blood supremacist best friend Astoria. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy for the rest of us,” he spat, already standing up as the carriages started to come to a halt near the castle. “Some of us don’t have anywhere to go.”

Pansy stood too, reaching out towards him with an apologetic expression. Her emerald eyes were vulnerable, her dark lips pointed downwards. Her hand was somewhat outstretched to call him back. “Draco, you know that’s not what I-”

“Whatever,” he muttered, hopping out of the carriage and towards the castle in the dark of the night. “I’ll see you at the feast.”

__________________

The feast was a dismal affair. After introducing the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Alecto Carrow, Snape said a few words about ‘reforms’ and the feast commenced, nobody really having the appetite to eat much.

Afterwards, McGonagall announced the largest change of this year and watched as chaos slowly descended over the room. There was only half the regular attendance because of the war, so it was easier to get everyone in control.

With a flick of her wand, she summoned a stack of papers and distributed them to each person in the room.

“These papers contain your housing situation and where it is. Hogwarts has been remodeled and instead of four supersized areas for each house, each group of 8 students, there are 50, you have a small dorm area and a small common room. Please find your groups and report to your dorms.”

Hermione looked at the sheet in her hands with contempt. Because of that filthy loathsome cockroach, Dumbledore had died and she was forced to live with the very person who had let the Death Eaters into their precious school.

“Ugh,” Ginny lamented, scoffing something fierce. “Our common room is where Myrtle’s toilet used to be.”

“Great. More splendid news,” she snarked. “I’m just thrilled.”

“Whoa, Hermione. I thought sarcasm was Harry’s thing!” 

“Yeah, forget You-Know-Who, ‘There’s no need to call me sir, professor’ was his greatest achievement,” Neville chimed in, laughing a bit at the end. Hermione couldn’t help but smile at this, remembering that profound and unforgettable moment.

“Suppose we should get to our new dormitories, then?” Hermione proposed, standing up sharply. Neville and Ginny followed her to where Luna was waiting outside a doorway. 

“There’s an awful lot of pixerflorites today,” Luna remarked offhandedly.

“I never know what you’re on about, Luna,” Ginny replied, shaking her head playfully.

“They’re these little pixies that are no wider than a hair on your head that fly into your eyes and infest your brain with melancholy thoughts. The only thing that keeps them away after they’ve infested is true love. That and home grown jouissance chanterelles,” She leaned close to them and lowered her voice. “The trick to growing them is to add a teaspoon of wood ash and one gram of unicorn spit to the soil.”

“Er, nice to know,” Neville said awkwardly, if kinder than the rest of them about her fancies. Hermione had known since the moment she met Neville that his hat stall was because of the possibility of him being Hufflepuff. He hadn’t a cruel bone in his body!

“Well, we’re here!” Ginny announced from outside the remodeled bathroom. The portrait on the wall was one of a blonde headed flapper with long and light lashes, her skin porcelain white and cheeks blushed rosy red.

“Hello,” the portrait giggled, taking a long drag of her cigarette. She had an American accent and Hermione suspected she was painted near the American 1920’s suffragette movement. “The name’s Janelle, but call me Nell.”

“Why hello, Nell. How do you do?” Luna asked charmingly, a pearly smile on her face.

“Just fine, miss…?”

“Luna. And these are my… friends, I guess you could call them. Hermione, Neville, and Ginny.”

“Hello!” The other three teenagers gave the portrait a polite smile and wave.

“It says here our password is... inopinatum caritate,” Ginny said, unsure about how to pronounce it. 

The portrait swung open to reveal their new common room.

It was unrecognizable now, the S-Bends vanished and the reeking tile floors replaced with smooth red and silver carpet, with accents of green here and there. There were two mahogany doors leading to what was presumably the dorms. There were three couches of maroon and emerald. 

All four of them were starstruck, eyes brimming with awe. 

It was interrupted by the arrival of a sweeping white figure. She looped through the halls, landing in front of them.

“You,” she acknowledged Hermione, an indignant frown on her face. She gave Ginny a pitying look and Neville and Luna a blank stare.

“Myrtle,” Hermione said flatly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the dramatic ghost. “How are you?”

“Just fine, no thanks to you,” she whined, floating around the room once. “I have to admit, this place is loads more comfortable than my old toilet.”

The portrait behind them swung open again as the four Slytherins wandered in.

“Wow, this beats the dank and musty Slytherin common room,” Theodore Nott murmured.

“Tell me about it,” Pansy Parkinson replied, her mouth open. Blaise Zabini was also staring pretty intently at all the wonders in the room while Draco looked around the room boredly, relatively disinterested. He had to admit the room was impressive for school, but lately, nothing seemed to give him too much joy.

He spotted a certain ghost floating towards them and for the first time in a while, a genuine kind expression came over his face. It was impossible for him to be rude to Elizabeth Myrtle. He had confided in the ghost in sixth year, finding her the sort of company that would be pleasant to anyone who bothered to be nice to her. It made him feel pity that she had to grovel for friendship, so he took it upon himself to bring a little joy into her life once in a while. God knows she was probably the only person who enjoyed his company.

“Hello, Elizabeth,” he greeted her pleasantly. “How are you today?”

“Happy now that you’re here,” she giggled good naturedly, her usually moping disposition turning into a girly one. 

“Elizabeth? Who does that git think he is?” Hermione scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Myrtle heard this little comment and she drifted away to Hermione, passing right through Pansy who tremored at the cold rush.

“‘That git’ happens to be my only friend,” she whined angrily, sticking her hand through Hermione purposely.

“Stop that!” the brunette chastised. “I’m going to head in for the day,” she grumbled to her friends, swiveling sharply and walking over to the labeled girls’ dorm. “Maybe practice a few spells before bed.” She cast Draco a glare after she said this, making both of them fully aware that if he tried anything, he would be tied on the ground before he could say ‘Stupefy’.

Before she walked away however, an evil smirk crossed her face before she opened her mouth and said, “It’s sad that Malfoy’s only friend is a school ghost, isn’t it?” 

Malfoy didn’t react, instead shooting back, “One more friend than you have, isn’t it?” Hermione just showed him her middle finger before storming off to her bed.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truces are made and Draco and Pansy have a heart to heart.

Hermione awoke slowly, eyes blinking once, twice, three times. Her alarm clock was charmed to play her favorite song at the moment. It was an hour and a half early, just in time for her to watch the sun rise over the Black Lake.

A smooth ballad by Tayloria Swindlecott, a well known wizard singer, filled the room. Hermione closed her eyes for a few minutes, casting a quick Muffliato to enjoy her favorite song before getting ready for the day.

A few minutes somehow turned into two hours and Hermione awoke to a flash of dark brown hair in her face. 

“Granger,” a female voice hissed, not kind but not hostile. “Wake up!”

Hermione shot up in bed, hands immediately going to her wand under her pillow. It had become a reflex these days. She never knew when something was going to happen to her. It was best to be prepared. She raised it towards the source of the noise, hand shaking and heart beating lightning fast.

The Slytherin raised her hands in surrender, a look of mild offense- but not surprise- on her face.

Within a couple seconds, once Hermione’s breath had slowed and her eyes had stopped darting around the room looking for the intruder, she stopped to see who it was and immediately went bright red, tucking her wand back underneath her pillow. 

“Pug- I mean, Parkinson?” Right. She forgot she shared a room with Pug Face, as Ron and Harry mocked.

“I just thought you’d like to know that it’s 7:55 and we have five minutes till breakfast.” Hermione’s brown eyes nearly popped out of her head. She glanced towards her clock and sure enough, it read out 7:55. 

“Shit,” she mumbled under her breath, jumping out of bed hurriedly, pulling out her trunk and pulling out her robes. She sifted through the trunk clumsily to try and find a hairbrush. A day without combing her bushy mane could be disastrous. Pansy watched with a slightly amused smirk.

“What are you looking for?” she asked, intrigued. 

“My hair comb! I need it or else my hair will be mangled beyond repair today!”

“A comb? Why not use a glamour charm?” Pansy questioned, crossing her arms over her chest. Hermione shrugged from her place on the ground, frowning just a little.

“I guess… I haven’t learned one,” she admitted sheepishly. “I never found the use.”

“Oh Granger, if anyone needs a glamour charm for your hair, it’s you!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I didn’t mean it in a rude way. I meant that your hair is really thick and could be lovely if you learned how to style it properly.”

“I don’t have the money to use as much Sleekeazy’s as I did during fourth year every day.”

“You don’t need Sleekeazy’s, just a decent charm. You should learn one,” Pansy seemed to be debating something before offering quietly, “I could teach one to you.”

“Pardon me, what?” Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes. “You’re offering to help me, the filthy Gryffindor mudblood?” she asked in disbelief, mouth slightly agape.

“If you’ll accept my help, then yes,” Pansy declared vehemently. 

“And you promise this isn’t some foolery to turn my hair green for a week or something to that effect?”

“Cross my heart,” Pansy promised, patting her chest once. “And even if it was, you would probably figure something out. You’re very smart, you know?”

Hermione was taken aback by the compliment.

“Al-Alright,” Hermione relented surprisingly, wondering all the while whether she was making a good decision. Pansy nodded with a small smile and took out her wand. 

“Crus Capillus,” she muttered under her breath, making a swooping wave with her wand. She said one more incantation, making a curvy up and down wave. “Plectere capillos.” 

Slowly, Hermione’s bush of medium brown hair started to comb itself out until it was a long mane of lustrous dark chestnut with her natural tints of gold. Then, it started to weave itself into a loose and voluminous braid, two strands falling out disobediently and framing her oval face.

Hermione went to a mirror, looking at herself in surprise, her olive skinned hand going up to lightly touch the braid.

“Do you like it?” asked Pansy shyly and unsurely.

“It’s gorgeous,” conceded Hermione, one eyebrow cocked up. “But why? You hate me, us, all muggle borns.”

“I’m trying to change,” Pansy explained with a nervous touch of her neck. “I figured getting over my blood prejudices was a prime way to do so.”

“That’s… very noble of you,” Hermione said in surprise, her eyebrows furrowing. In her life, she never would’ve though that Pansy Parkinson would rebel against Voldemort.

“I did have an ulterior motive, though,” Pansy chuckled, a twinkle in her light green eyes. Hermione knew it. These Slytherins were up to no good at all, were they? 

Nevertheless, she kept a cool composure and only uttered a regal “What?”

“Truce,” Pansy offered, extending her lightly tanned hand to Hermione. “At least between the two of us. Civility at the very least, no more hate.” Hermione looked at her outstretched hand with a surprise. 

She faltered, before placing her hand in Pansy’s. 

“Truce,” she agreed, nodding and shaking her hand. 

“I should get to breakfast,” Pansy excused herself, starting to back away with a satisfied smile. “And you should change into your robes.”

“I should,” Hermione agreed. 

Pansy started to walk out before an amused expression crossed her face and she said, “If you like Tayloria, listen to Selice Gometta. You might find her refreshing.”

With that, she left Hermione with a spark of hope in her eyes.

________________________

“I did it,” Pansy sang when she got to the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, plopping down in between Theo and Blaise.

“That’s amazing, angel,” Theo replied, kissing her on the top of her head.

“She actually seems… pretty nice. I think we should all make an effort to be civil to our roommates. Not friends, just civility. It might make this year easier.”

“Sure, like they’d take too kindly to that,” Blaise dismissed, rolling his eyes.

Draco made an exaggerated show of gagging. “Me? Playing buddy buddy with a mudblood, bumbling loser, blood traitor, and mad woman? No way.”

“You’re friends with me, aren’t you? Aren’t I and Astoria technically blood traitors for running away from our families? Our supposed destinies as Death Eaters?”

“That’s different,” he argued as Pansy rolled her eyes at his lame excuse. “You’re… you and they’re… them.”

“There’s not a thing different about it. It’s just that they have it easier than us to break away because their families are supportive. In the end, we’re all in the same boat.”

“Oh please, are you actually sympathizing with the Weasels? Are you going to be chums with Weaslette and talk about how much you love mudbloods and make bloody friendship bracelets?” he spat.

Pansy sighed and gave up. “You know what? I don’t want to argue with you. Speaking as a friend who loves you with all her heart, you need to loosen up a bit,” she advised, placing a hand on his. His eyes softened a little at her affection. He rarely got any real love from his father and though his mother loved to dote on him, she followed his father. Pansy made up for their lacking. They had tried dating before, but it was like kissing his sister. “Let’s all go to Hogsmeade this weekend. How about that?”

“I’m in,” said Blaise. “I want to drown myself in firewhiskey legally now that I’m 17. Not that I haven’t been smuggling it since 5th year.”

“I’ll come,” Theo agreed, wrapping a long and pale arm around Pansy. 

“And you, Draco?” she asked excitedly, hope gleaming in her big green eyes. Of course he couldn’t say no to Pansy after all she did for him. She was by far the person in the group that prevented them from all jumping off a bridge. She had lifted him, all of them, from slumps, comforted him when his parents had put him in deeper shit than ever before, and was one of the 3 people that didn’t turn her back when he had refused to kill Dumb-as-a-door. The three of them had been self-labeled as her boys, her friends and brothers and partners in crime. 

If the least she was asking for was a Hogsmeade trip, he’d give it to her.

“Fine,” he conceded. “Fine, I’ll come. But if you invite Granger, I will hex all of you into next year.” She grinned and kissed each of her boys on the cheek before sitting down to eat breakfast.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione meets a new side of Draco Malfoy after a frightening encounter.

Hermione walked nervously to her DADA class. A Death Eater was running it, so she had no idea what to expect.

She walked into the classroom, sitting her things down in a seat at the very back, which was very unlike her. She was usually an avid student, but she didn’t want to take chances.

Not surprisingly, she was way early and the first in the class. At the front with a scheming grin, sat Alecto Carrow.

Alecto Carrow didn’t look very threatening to a random passerby. She was a rather plump woman with a pinched face. Her hair was a coarse and putrid yellowy orange and pulled into a tight bun. She had brown eyes, cold and calculating, always thinking of how to cause the most pain. She wore form fitting dresses and held her chin high. 

“Hermione Granger,” she mused, a cold smile on her face. “How wonderful.” She floated over to the girl, whipping out her wand discreetly.

“Professor Carrow,” the brunette acknowledged, trying not to make eye contact.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I am?” the older woman cackled, a sick look in her eyes. “Or is that act saved for the mudblood loving professors?” Hermione froze as her temper flared and bile climbed her throat. Her fists balled as she took a deep breath.

“How are you?” she asked through gritted teeth, focusing on her shoes.

“Come now, mudblood. It won’t do to have you distracted. Look at me,” she commanded. Hermione defied for just a moment, faltering, before the woman boomed, “Look at me!” Hermione turned around and met her eye reluctantly.

The woman let an almost feral growl escape her teeth before she got inches away from Hermione’s face. “Look, I don’t want any of your Order shit in this classroom, alright? You people bloody lost, face it,” she spat in Hermione’s face. “And I can’t wait till the day that the Dark Lord gives us permission to curse your mudblood arse into oblivion!”

Hermione couldn’t help but let a spark inside her flare up for a moment. “Please, any one of the people in the Order could defeat you mindless followers!” 

Alecto was surprised for the slightest moment before she slammed Hermione against a wall in outrage, the girl’s head hitting the stone with a sharp crack. Hermione winced and held back tears as she felt something warm and sticky ooze out of her head. Carrow’s hand maintained a grip on her throat, hard enough to keep her pinned, but loose enough so she could breathe well. How considerate of her, Hermione noted dryly.

“Listen, girl,” Alecto growled, mere centimeters away from Hermione’s face, her breath smelling of blood and rotten meat. “I don’t want your attitude, not from a mudblood like you. You are filth, you are nothing compared to the higher class purebloods.”

“The only filth is one who murders for pleasure, Professor,” she mocked, spitting the word in her face. 

“I kill only to exterminate the impurities in this world, Ms. Granger. And very soon, you and your little friends will be just another body in a pile of destruction.”

“I’d like to say the feeling’s mutual, but I’m not very fond of homicide,” Hermione replied, shifting uncomfortably as Carrow’s grip on her throat tightened. 

“Well, I am,” Alecto said with a sadistic grin. “I’m not allowed to kill you, but who’s to say a little bit of torture won’t suffice before class?” 

Her wand was raised to Hermione’s throat and the words rolled off her lips right as somebody interrupted, “There isn’t a problem here, is there?”

She was surprised to see the very last person she was expecting to swoop in and protect her from certain death. Malfoy strode into the room, setting his books down on an empty desk at the front. 

Alecto released her grip on Hermione at once. Hermione dropped to the floor like a wilting flower, clutching her throat. She fingered her throbbing head, bringing her fingers down to see crimson liquid staining her fingers. Malfoy noticed her wand on the other side of the room and tossed her his black wand, gesturing for her to heal herself. 

Doing a quick bit of non-verbal magic, she flinched as she felt the slight pull of flesh back together, the wound healing itself quickly. She was lucky she knew much more advanced magic than anyone in her class. She knew these spells purely because she thought a war was inevitable and she wanted to be prepared.

She brought her attention to the conversation happening between Malfoy and Carrow.

“Alecto, what will the Dark Lord say about your behavior?” he murmured in a hushed tone, the words coming out of his mouth in fluid sentences. Everything seemed to come so natural for him. “He specifically said not to harm anybody till the time comes. We want as many people as possible on our side, you daft dimbo!” 

A year ago, if he had talked to one of the Dark Lords’ most favored followers like this, he’d be dead before he could say a word in edgewise. But now, though he had failed to kill Dumbledore, he commanded a certain amount of respect in the Death Eaters. 

He had single handedly fixed the Vanishing Cabinet, allowing the passage and infiltration of the Death Eaters into the single most secure place with the most influenceable people to impress their values on. He hated it, he despised being the instigator for such pain amongst so many people, but it was them or the life of everyone he gave a damn about.

“But she was infuriating, Malfoy!” Alecto hissed, throwing the girl a hateful glance. “She was talking back to me! Her, a mudblood!” 

Draco rolled his eyes dramatically. “Yes, mudbloods always seem to think they’re superior, but it’s no bloody excuse for her to be tortured! You and I know better than anyone what too many Cruciatuses can do to someone! I don’t want to face the Dark Lord’s wrath if you kill Potter’s best friend! She has important information and if we crack her open slowly, she might spill something we can use!” 

“It was only going to be one,” she pouted, looking at Hermione with crazed eyes again. “To make her pay.”

“That isn’t your job,” he snapped as she got distracted. “I’ll excuse this just this once, but next time you hurt an innocent student, it’ll go straight to the Dark Lord and there will be hell to pay, from him and me.” By now, students had begun to filter into the class, all with solemn expressions on their face. Some Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were in a huddle, all crying quietly from their seats.

Hermione had thought that war was yet to be fought. No armies had assembled and there was no clear declaration of battle.

It was then that she realized she was mistaken.

Innocent people had been hurt, blood had been spilled in mass quantities. Pain was making its way through the most joyous of hearts and the entire world was bitterly divided. 

No formal declaration had been made…

...but this was war.

This was war and she’d win or be damned. She’d win for Harry and Ron. She’d win to have a future with the boy she’d loved since fourth year. She’d win so she could walk on the streets without being spat at for being a ‘filthy mudblood.’ She’d win for the weeping students huddled in a corner, for fear of being punished. She’d win for Professor Burbage, for Cedric Diggory, for James and Lily Potter, for Frank and Alice Longbottom, for Myrtle Elizabeth Warren, for Florean Fortescue, for Albus Dumbledore, for Sirius Black, and for her parents, who weren’t dead, but were as good as to her. She’d win so that she might have a chance one day of reuniting with them. 

After a class that was almost painful to sit through, she caught up to him after class.

“Malfoy,” she called. He spun around gracefully, pushing blonde hair out of his eyes.

“Granger,” he acknowledged coldly. 

“Thought you might like to have this back,” she said, offering his wand to him. He took it from her with an impassive nod. 

“Is that all?” he asked boredly, inspecting his nails. 

“Yes, well, no,” she vacillated, shaking her head.

“Well then, get on with it. I don’t have all day.” 

“Also, thank you,” She did not know that he did not mean it as an act of goodwill. “I’m so grateful.”

“For what?” he snapped, his tone sharp and stinging. She was taken aback, a tiny frown on her face. “If you think me letting you not be bloody tortured was some kind of obsequious profession of love, let me assure you, it was not. I still hate you, I just didn’t want to get in trouble for Alecto’s foolishness.” 

With that, he spun on his heel and walked away.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends have discussions and new bonds are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, I do not endorse underage drinking!!! In the wizarding world, they are allowed to drink at the legal age of 17!!! I'm so excited to share this chapter with you guys because I love sweet Pansy.

“Malfoy saved you?” Neville exclaimed in disbelief. “Bloody Malfoy?” 

The four of them were sitting in their common room, enjoying what precious alone time they’d get before the Slytherins would come back from dinner. They had chosen to forego it and opt for the package of goodies that Mrs. Weasley had sent them instead. 

“Don’t get too excited about it,” Hermione mumbled, rolling her eyes. “He made it clear that he was doing it purely for his own protection.”

Ginny snorted, swallowing a mince pie tartlet. “That sounds more like him.”

“I don’t know about that,” Luna murmured dreamily, a small smile fixated on her lips. “I saw him after your potions class and there weren’t as many Wrackspurts around. The only way to combat Wrackspurts is with positivity or dirigible plums, you know.”

______________________

Draco was the last one to arrive at the Great Hall for dinner. He strolled over to the Slytherin table with his hands jammed in his pocket. Granger’s pang of hurt face echoed through his mind. Bloody Gryffindors were always so trusting and naive. They thought every little act of common decency was an extension of friendship.

He saw where she’d be coming from. He wasn’t a decent person by any means, especially not to stupid Granger, and trusting her with his wand was not something he would’ve done on a normal day, especially not when she could snap it like a twig if she wanted to. But moral and goody goody Granger wouldn’t do that. She’d put on her halo and act holier than all of them like she always did. The worst thing was that she’d be right. 

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he saw Blaise give him a nonchalant wave out of the corner of his eyes. 

“Hey, mate,” Theo greeted, patting the seat beside him casually. Draco sat down with a grunt, piling some chicken casserole on his plate. He picked at it, not hungry at all. He mostly moved it around with a fork, feeling sick to his stomach.

“What’s got your knickers in a bind?” Blaise remarked, smirking quietly.

“Granger,” he growled, rolling his eyes and scowling. “The insufferable know it all got to Defense first and Carrow had her pinned against a wall and was about to use the Cruciatus on her.”

Pansy dropped her fork on her plate with a clatter. “Draco Malfoy, do not tell me you helped! No wonder she looked so shaken during class! I thought you were better than this, but clearl-”

She was sharply cut off by Draco saying much louder than intended, “I didn’t do anything to that sodding mudblood, alright?” Pansy softened, immediately apologetic for assuming the worst.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” she apologized meekly. “I was quick to assume the worst and I shouldn’t have. I just thought that considering your history-”

“I contemplated it,” he chuckled humorlessly. “You were half right. I contemplated leaving and waiting for another five minutes to come in. God knows she deserved it for all these years, starting from that punch to that bloody killer chicken to just last year when Pottah left permanent scars. I’m still not a good person, but at least I know I’m not a complete sociopath.”

“D’you know what my grandmum used to say?” Blaise asked.

“What?” Draco said gruffly. “Something cheesy?”

“To you, maybe,” Blaise laughed, before growing serious again. “She used to say that ‘The first thought that goes through your mind is what you have been conditioned to think; what you think next defines who you are.’ Of course she used it as a willy nilly excuse to kill a lot of people and ignore her conscience, but it’s good advice! Your first instinct was to leave her to be tortured, but your next was to protect an innocent person. You’re not as much of a bugger as I think you are!”

“Total sap fest,” Theo remarked, snarfing down the casserole at lightning speed. 

“The way you eat I wouldn’t be surprised if you were confused for Weasley!” Blaise snorted.

“Oh come on, let’s not be that harsh on him,” Draco joked. In that moment, you could see some semblance of what he used to be, back before the turmoil his realization about the true nature of his family brought him. It was only with these people, his closest friends and dearest family, in which he could let loose a little bit. 

“Shit, Theo, slow down!” Pansy chastised, looking at the sauce dribbling around his chin. She reached for a napkin and wiped his mouth gently. He smiled flirtatiously at her and she blushed furiously before brushing her lips against his cheek lightly. 

“Oh, save it for the bedroom,” Draco teased lightheartedly. “You’re one to be talking about a sap-fest, Theodore.”

“Can you even get past the wards they set on the dorms?” Blaise asked nonchalantly.

“Were you too busy being a musty old prude to notice that Theo and I have figured out how to get past them since last year?” Pansy asked incredulously.

Blaise choked on the food he was eating, spitting it out promptly.

“You mean it wasn’t a dream?” he asked with wide brown eyes. 

“A dream? Blaise, my man, have you gone loony?” Theo said.

“Last year I woke up and saw you and Pansy snogging against a wall in our dorm and I was convinced I was dreaming!”

“Oh, sweet innocent child,” Pansy smirked, patting him on the shoulder. “You have no idea what we do when you’re asleep.”

“Alright! This conversation is over!” Draco announced abruptly, pushing his plate back. 

Blaise too clutched his stomach and pushed his plate back with a dramatized groan. “I’m suddenly not so hungry.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and smacked him on the arm. “Oh please! As if we didn’t have to pretend to not notice you and Millicent Bulstrode on prefect patrols fifth year!” 

___________________

_Dear HG,_

_All’s well here. Found one, can’t destroy._

_Hope everything’s well there. Give G our love._

_-H & R_

Hermione looked down at the miserably short letter they had sent her. She knew that it was for the best. If their letter had been tracked or intercepted, it was best they keep it as vague as possible. She pet Hedwig gently, the bird bending to her hand as she stroked her snowy white plumage.

She scribbled back a short response, one not too vague, but just enough for them to know she cared.

_Dear H and R,_

_All’s well here. I’m forced to be with the ferret and his flunkeys and its miserable, though PP isn’t that bad. G and I are well, we miss you two horribly. You wouldn’t believe what happened in DADA today. I won’t reveal it for purposes of privacy in case this gets intercepted. Love you boys._

_-HG_

She slipped inside an envelope and lit a candle, letting some red wax drip just below the fold. Pressing an official looking sealer that she had gotten in a stationary set as a gift from her parents last birthday, she clipped it in Hedwig’s mouth and watched as the familiar owl flew into the blue sky.

Sighing, she noted the time on her watch. 9:00. Late, but not late enough to go to bed. She picked up a book, but she didn’t want to sit in bed. No, that was too depressing. She didn’t want to be alone tonight. She’d take anyone’s company, except maybe Malfoy.

She decided to go out to the common room and see if anyone was there. Ginny was probably doing some late night practice for Quidditch(she claimed the moon “relaxed her”), Neville was out helping Professor Sprout, and Luna was… Luna, nobody knew what she was up to. 

She went out into the common room, stretching slightly. Sitting on the couch under a soft gray blanket was Pansy Parkinson. She had a small glass in her hands, half full with a rich golden liquid. In front of her was a big bottle labeled ‘Ogden’s Olde Firewhiskey’, filled almost to the brim.

“Hey,” she greeted halfheartedly, peering out the window behind Hermione. It was raining lightly outside, though flashes of lightning would grace the sky occasionally. She took a small sip of firewhiskey, smiling as the liquid burnt down her throat.

“Hello,” Hermione acknowledged, sitting herself down on the couch across from Pansy. She opened her book to the first page. It was called History of Dark Magic, one of her latest Restricted Section reads. Hermione had gotten an unlimited pass to that particular section from McGonagall. 

She read about a paragraph into it before she slammed the book closed and sighed. She really didn’t want to read something that gloomy today, not when the day’s mood was already somber.

“Hermione Granger, getting her nose out of a book. I never thought I’d see the day,” Pansy remarked offhandedly. Hermione was about to get very offended when she saw the tentative friendly smile on the girl’s face. 

“Neither did I,” she said carefully, not wanting to get too comfortable. She got too comfortable with Harry and Ron and now they were up and gone. “Just not the book I wanted to be reading today.”

“I understand that. Life is just a craphole of shite right now. Firewhiskey?” she offered, holding the bottle to her. Hermione hesitated, she didn’t usually drink on school nights. She had been legal almost a year ago and enjoyed the occasional splurge, but she had classes tomorrow. Pansy sensed her apprehension and encouraged her with a “Trust me, it’s liquid happiness. Plus, you’re legal now. Nobody cares.”

She remembered how miserable she was without her boys and shrugged it off, nodding. Pansy conjured a similar glass and poured a generous amount of it into the cup, handing it to her from across the room.

“Any reason why you found that book so unsuitable?” she asked casually, topping off her little cup also. 

“It’s a perfectly good book, it’s just… I’m exhausted,” she confessed, biting her lip gently. “Exhausted with everything! The stupid Ministry and You-Know-Who, Dr- certain people who confuse me, everything is tiring these days. It’s all just… frigging exhausting.”

Pansy raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that.” Hermione also took a sip in kind, feeling a kind of camaraderie with the girl. Not in the same way she had the easy companionship with Harry, but something different. God knows that before seventh year, she sorely lacked female companionship. She loved Ginny dearly, she was like a sister to Hermione, but she just didn’t understand the complexity of Hermione’s situation. Everyone was going through hardships, but at least Ginny had her family to rely on. Hermione didn’t even have that. She wasn’t denying that Ginny had it bad, she had lost her boyfriend and her brother, but she had a support system to rely on.

“Why are you drowning your sorrows in alcohol?” Hermione teased, quirking up an eyebrow and taking a slow sip of firewhiskey. A pang of sadness crossed Pansy’s face and Hermione immediately amended, “If you prefer to keep it private, I completely understand.”

Pansy shrugged helplessly, downing the rest of her glass in one shot. “What’s there to tell? Just the usual Tuesday night. Another letter from my mother telling me how I’m a disgrace to the Parkinson name for not wanting to be a Death Eater. Still trying to scrounge up the security deposit for a dingy flat in London for Tori and I,-”

“Tori?” 

“Astoria Greengrass. She’s a fifth year and doesn’t like her parents’ values, so we’re pooling to save to live together after I graduate. Her sister Daphne’s in our year, she’s a staunch elitist and a huge snob.”

“Oh, go on then.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to burden you with my problems,” she said nervously, chewing her top lip.

“Darling, I need a distraction,” Hermione snorted, taking a big gulp of firewhiskey and almost draining it completely. The alcohol hadn’t set in yet and she wasn’t even feeling a buzz. “Please, go on.”

“Blaise is desperately in need of companionship, and Draco’s being a moody little shit as always,” she sighed, helping herself to more firewhiskey.

“I take it you heard about the Defense incident today?” Hermione asked with a defeated sigh. “I’m just surprised he didn’t leave me to fend for myself.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Pansy shook her head, frowning the slightest bit. “Draco likes to pretend he’s the scum of the Earth and no better than Lord Voldy himself, but he has a good heart. He has compassion for people, I’ve seen it. He didn’t have the heart to kill when it got down to it. He’s like my brother, you know. ”

Hermione chuckled hollowly, looking down at her cup and seeing her reflection rippling. “You sure we’re talking about the same ferret, I mean, boy? The same foul loathsome evil little cockroach?”

“You say cockroach, I say caterpillar. If only he’d grow up a little bit and get over himself, he could be beautiful!”

“Sure,” Hermione drawled sarcastically. “Let’s agree to disagree.”

“We can start with that,” Pansy agreed, smiling warmly(and slightly tipsily) at Hermione.

“How about I top us off and we can go from there?” Hermione grinned, waving the bottle enticingly. 

“Sounds great to me.”


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione makes Draco do something and he receives some horrible news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there hasn't been a lot of Dramione action in the past few chapters, I was laying a base for a new friendship. There will be progress in the next couple chapters though.

Hermione woke up with a raging headache the next morning, not even in her own bed. Instead, she was laying on the common room couch uncomfortably, her hands sprawled near her head and her feet twisted over each other awkwardly. She and Pansy both had Slytherin scarves thrown over them. It looked like somebody had “tucked them in” when they had fallen asleep late last night. The scarves smelled familiar, a sort of appley and piney scent to them. It was pleasant.

She glanced at the clock, it was 6:30 and they all had about an hour before they really needed to wake up. 

Across from her on the other sofa, Pansy Parkinson was snoring softly, her brown hair hanging over her face. Hermione lifted herself off the couch, raising her arms and stretching. She walked into her actual dorm room, folding up the scarf and placing it on the foot of Luna’s empty bed. 

As she walked in, Ginny stirred in her bed. 

“Mione?” she grumbled, pulling the covers to her chin. 

“Sorry for waking you,” Hermione whispered sheepishly. 

“No, it’s okay,” Ginny sat up in bed, brushing some red hair out of her hair. “Luna and I found you and Parkinson snoring on the couch at two last night with a half empty bottle of firewhiskey. Somebody had put scarves on you. Care to explain?”

“I do not snore!”

“Sure,” Ginny droned flatly. “But don’t change the subject.”

“I was bored last night and I went out to the common room,” Hermione shrugged defensively, keeping her head held high. 

“That doesn’t explain how you two ended up like that.” Ginny raised a single eyebrow expertly, crossing her arms.

“We started talking and drinking and we fell asleep like that. She’s...good company,” Hermione said, her tone sounding more surprised than she should’ve been. 

“So you and Parkinson are friends now?” Ginny said, her mouth falling open slightly. 

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I was bored, she was bored, and we were talking. Acquaintances maybe.”

“Sure, just… be careful, okay?” Ginny urged softly, smiling kindly at her friend. “She’s friends with Malfoy and I don’t want you getting hurt, so proceed with caution.”

“Ginevra Weasley being careful? Who are you?” Hermione shot back playfully, walking to her trunk and pulling out her robes. She slipped behind the curtain of her bed and changed. 

She thought back to Pansy’s glamour charms and tried to copy her. “Crus capillus,” she muttered, watching as her hair combed itself out. Deciding she was going to leave it simple, she hopped back in front of the curtain and went back out to the common room. Pansy was still fast asleep.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw who was there already. Draco Malfoy. He had a tight black shirt on(he had presumably slept in it) with the first couple buttons undone. He was wearing gray sweatpants, his blonde hair rumpled and eyes bloodshot like he hadn’t slept all night. 

He was leaned against a sturdy table, hand loosely gripping a green apple. He noticed Granger come out of her room and he smirked. She had done her hair differently today. It was admittedly pretty for an intolerable muggleborn like her. Hermione Granger had always been a lot more than pretty, but she was a muggleborn, Gryffindor, and an insufferable know-it-all.

“Ugh, Malfoy,” the girl cursed under her breath. 

“Not pleased to see me?” Draco retorted, rolling his eyes.

“You wish.”

“Wish that you would talk to me? Never,” he snorted, taking a step closer and straightening out to his full length. Hermione would be lying if she said that the fact that he towered a half foot over her didn’t intimidate her just a little.

“Feeling’s mutual,” she spat, subconsciously taking a step back.

“Scared, Granger?”

They stood in silence for a couple beats, daring the other to make a move, flashing brown eyes clashing with steel gray. Hermione was the first to back off a little bit.

“We’re supposed to be figuring out patrol pairs,” she muttered flatly. 

“Great, you do that,” he replied sharply, turning on his heel to go back into the boys’ dormitory.

“Malfoy, you come back here!” she shouted, making him turn with a scowl. “You are going to help me with this because it is your job too,” she growled, her upper lip curling. 

“You’re mad, Granger. I don’t think I could tolerate another minute with you!” He turned again, about to run back to his bed and burrow under the covers for another half hour. 

“Come back here, you imbecile,” she snapped, running to him and grabbing him by the wrist and spinning him, her hand maintaining a steel grip on his hand. He winced, for somebody so petite, she sure did have a tight hold.

“What do you want?” he growled, pulling his hand back from her with a tug. Hermione’s temper flared at his non cooperation. Couldn’t he be a little less of a prat sometimes?

“Draco Malfoy, you will help me create these pairings or I will march up to McGonagall’s office right now and tell her all about your behavior!”

“You think I’m afraid of a snitch, Granger?” he mocked, taking a threatening step forward. She took a step forward in kind, her angry brown eyes clashing with his stone cold gray.

“It was either that or a particularly fierce hex,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. 

“Try me, mudblood.” Hermione couldn’t take it anymore. With a frustrated scream, she lifted her hand and struck her palm across his cheek. Draco’s hand cupped his cheek in pain and surprise, feeling the tender skin with a wince. 

“Never call me that again,” she snarled angrily.

“You hit me,” he said in shock, his voice incredulous. His voice raised as he repeated, “You bloody hit me!”

Raising his wand, he shot a hex at her which she dodged. Whipping hers out also, she muttered “Ventus” and watched with a smug smile as a jet of wind knocked him back into a wall.

“Do you mind?” a portrait mumbled sarcastically. They both ignored it.

“Flipendo,” he yelled, knocking her over. She landed on her knees gracefully, bounding up and pointing her wand at a stack of quills. 

“Oppugno!” The feather quills flew towards his face at lightning speed.

“Protego!” Hermione dodged the assault of backfiring objects. 

“Ebulio!” She shouted, narrowly missing his head and instead encasing a fallen textbook in a bubble. 

“Expelliarmus!” Her wand went flying towards him and he caught it mid air. 

“Accio wand,” she said smartly and he watched incredulously as the brown stick went flying towards her again. 

“Wandless magic?” he asked her. 

“I’ve been playing around with it.”

She nodded smugly and Draco gave up. Hermione Granger was astute, too clever. For a wizard of only seventeen years old to accomplish wandless magic, that put her on a level that few had reached. Draco had tried wandless magic and almost succeeded, but never fully. He was very intelligent for his age, but still not quite on the level of her success. That was part of the reason he spited her. For seven years, he’d been berated by his father for letting a muggleborn surpass him in every subject except Potions and DADA in fifth year.

He betted that by the time she was in her 20s, she’d be on the level of wizards like Merlin and Dumbledore. “Merlin’s most saggy Y-fronts,” he mumbled, sighing. “I give up. Okay. Fine. Whatever, I’ll help you.”

“That is more like it,” she said soundly, nodding authoritatively. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to breakfast. Meet me at noon in the library.”

____________

_Draco,_

_I trust you’re doing well. Remember my reminder, Draco. Don’t let that mudblood outshine you again. I know you’re a top notch student, don’t disappoint me. This is your year to take. With the Ministry in our hands and Alecto in that school, you have significant pull. Don’t hesitate to let me hear about anything you might need, but if I hear anything incompetent, there will be hell to pay._

_The Dark Lord requires your assistance yet again. Once again, I am reminding that it is a great honor that you have been chosen for the Death Eaters. He needs you to keep Carrow in check. She can get rowdy and out of control sometimes and you are very level headed. If he hears anything inappropriate about her behavior, it will reflect badly on both your reputations. If you fail, it will reflect on me and your mother. Do not disappoint, my son._

_On to the next matter, I have decided that the Malfoys need as much pull as we can in the wizarding world. The next order of business after you graduate is a satisfactory partner. Though your mother is reluctant, we have arranged a suitable arrangement for you. You would not believe what happened yesterday! Orlando and Aster Greengrass on our door step, begging us to save their face. As you know, their blood traitor daughter and that Parkinson girl(I sincerely hope you have cut off ties with them) have gone rogue on their own. It was readily granted and both their names have been burned off their respective family trees, but now the Greengrasses are in very bad standings in the social ranks._

_Anyways, they need to get back in the good graces of society, so they’re on our doorstep practically begging us to alleviate their pain. They have ample bank, so we’ve worked out something. By the time you are 21, you are to be married to Daphne Greengrass in exchange for a significant percentage in their wealth._

_I suggest you start courting her posthaste. Of course, you may as well not, considering it doesn’t make any difference whether you get along or not. You will be expected to marry her. I know you won’t fail me, Draco. Don’t fail me, or else._

_Your father,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

_Darling Draco,_

_My dearest son, I miss you ever so much. Things are always dull around the house without your face around to liven it up. I love Lucius, but you know your father, always caught up in that plotting of his._

_I trust you’ve heard the news. I was disappointed, to say the least. My darling son is only 17, you shouldn’t have to worry about these things. I wanted you to be a child for longer, mess with your friends, date a few girls, have a chance to live life before this. No matter, you know how it is around the house. Your father’s word goes._

_I’m not a fool, Draco. I know you and I know you won’t cut ties with Pansy. You grew up with that girl. Let’s keep it our little secret because truthfully, I think she’s shaped your character heavily, given you a softer edge that your father doesn’t want you to have. I respect Lucius’ opinions, but I think a little compassion never hurt anybody._

_We have high expectations for you, Draco, but remember not to stress too much. You are still expected to have top notch grades, but remember to have a bit of fun too. It’s your last year of Hogwarts before you join the Death Eaters and Ministry full time. Your father has a spot for you prepared. You have a beautiful life just waiting for you, despite the flaws that may arise._

_Give Blaise, Theodore, and Pansy a hug for me. Rosie made some fudge and know you love it so. I’m mailing some with this letter. Remember to share it and tell me about any new friends you made! Always remember I love you more than anything in this world._

_Missing you dearly,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

Draco slammed his fist on the breakfast table, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw. Of course his father had made yet another decision about his life with zero care for how Draco would feel about it. It wasn’t enough that he was damned to a life of crime, but now he was damned with someone he couldn’t stand.

“Lucius?” Blaise asked sympathetically. He nodded silently, putting his head in his hands and groaning.

“I am in such deep shit.”


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a full chapter, just a short encounter about what happens when they meet at the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is a lot less lighthearted, so I'm just writing this encounter into its own chapter.

At 12:06, Draco begrudgingly walked into the library, still not quite believing that Granger had bested him yet again. Swinging the door open, he tried to slam it shut dramatically, only to be dismayed to find that a quieting charm had been placed. 

His gray eyes scanned the room and found the unmistakable bushy brown hair he was looking for. Stomping across the floor, he earned a glare from Madam Pince. 

As soon as he got to the table, he was met with a sharp “You’re late.”

“Nice to see you too, Granger.” She rolled her eyes and pulled the chair out beside her. 

“I want to get this done as soon as possible, so sit down and don’t cause any trouble, Malfoy.”

“Gladly, Granger,” He sat down with a huff, picking up a quill. “As far as I know, McGonagall wants boy-girl pairs from different houses so that no one is partial.”

“Okay, first, I’m thinking Melinda in Slytherin with Phillip in Gryffindor.”

“Sounds good,” he agreed, that being just what he was about to suggest. “That leaves Daisy in Hufflepuff with Grant in Slytherin.”

Just like that, they sorted them surprisingly easily. They worked well when they weren’t bickering.

“Some of them aren’t here for this year,” she pointed out. “So the seventh year Slytherin male prefect has been replaced with your mate Blaise…”

“...and Loony is the sixth year female.”

“Pair them?” they suggested at the same time. They nodded in agreement, Draco scrawling down the names together in elegant cursive. 

“Jack and Hannah?” Draco suggested.

“No, she used to date him,” she said, shaking her head. 

“Longbottom?” 

“Good idea,” she said, writing it down. Like that, it barely took a half hour before they had it all figured out. Once they did, they both got up quickly, gathering their things together.

“Well, this has been fun,but I would rather be hydrating the ocean than here for a moment longer,” he drawled sardonically.

“God, just when I thought you were tolerable.”

“I’m offended that you think that highly of me.”

“Oh my god, can you shut up?” she groaned, closing her eyes for a moment.

“No, I don’t think I will.”


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theodore and Pansy talk in the dead of night and Draco has a heart to heart.

_The best of people have the worst of ghosts._

“Shh, you’re okay, darling. You’re just fine, I’m right here with you,” whispered Theo, rubbing holding her to his chest tightly as she whimpered pathetically, tears staining his old shirt. He cast a wordless Muffliato over them. 

She should’ve known that the nightmares wouldn’t stop. No amount of running from her insufferable parents could erase what she’d seen, what she’s heard all these years. No amount of firewhiskey could erase the fact that she’d seen countless people’s life drain out of their eyes right in front of her, wanting to do something, anything, but being utterly powerless.

“Which one was it, Pansy?” he asked seriously, not at all his usual lighthearted fashion. He could tell just by the look in her eyes that it was the worst one tonight.

“Danica?” he asked, already knowing the answer. She only nodded, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Theo blinked back tears of his own. He knew his beloved Pansy missed the girl with a passion. It hurt him to see her like this, partially because he hated seeing her in so much anguish, partly because he wondered if he’d ever live up to what Pansy had lost, if he’d ever be as good as she deserved. 

“I’m sorry,” she said meekly. 

“For what?” he replied automatically, brushing brown hair out of her sweet face. 

“That you have to see me… like this. Pining over someone else that’s gone while having the audacity to lay in your arms. I truly don’t deserve you, Theo,” she confessed, drawing herself back from him guiltily. “I can’t help but think that maybe you’d be happier without me, that if you found a girl with less ghosts-”

“Stop right there, Pans,” he interrupted, raising his hand to cup her tan face. He stroked a shaky line across her cheek, wiping away the trails of moisture before taking her hand. “I’ve told you a million times, darling. I will hold you after your nightmares every day for the rest of eternity if that’s what it takes to be with you. I don’t care if you never get over her, as long as you want me, I’m here.”

“I am over her. I don’t reminisce nearly as much as I used to two years ago, but sometimes… something…”

“Something reminds you,” he finished for her, having felt exactly what she was speaking about. “I know.”

“Why do you put up with me?” she asked abruptly, squeezing his hand tight as if she was afraid he might disappear like some sort of an apparition. “I’m a poor, esteem less, scarred, annoying little bisexual.”

“Well, now that you mention it…” He grinned playfully at her and she smacked him lightly. 

“No, really, Theodore.” 

“Fine, you want to know why? Because despite all that, you’re the best person I know. Don’t tell Draco, I don’t think his tender ego can handle that.” She laughed, a ghost of the regular spark in her bright brown eyes showing up. 

“See? That, that right there is why,” he said.

“What right there?” she asked curiously.

“That little look you get in your eyes when you laugh or look at something you like. How can anyone not fall for someone with that look?” Her skin darkened a few shades as she blushed. 

“Oh, stop it,” she chided, pushing him lightly. “I wanted a factual answer, not a sappy love speech. You know I hate hearing about myself.”

“That’s too bad then, because I love talking about you. For every negative trait you have, I can list a thousand good ones. Sure, you might not have a dollar to your name anymore, but you make up for that with the richness of your personality. Sure, you may have your ghosts, but so do I. We all do. Without those ghosts, you wouldn’t be who you are. You may be slightly annoying when you nag, but you’re also kind, caring, beautiful, empathetic, and so much more. And as for your bisexuality, I consider myself lucky! You had twice the amount of people to choose from and you still chose me!”

She caressed his face lightly, her feather light touches grazing his cheek, before pulling him in and kissing his lips softly. “Words can’t describe how much I love you, teddy bear.” She used the nickname she had coined so long ago. It seemed like an age, a time when she had a little too much to drink and she had compared him to a big teddy bear and herself to a little flower. 

“I love you too, little flower.” They settled back down, pulling the covers over them. Her ear pressed against his chest and the steady beating of his heart lulled her to sleep.

______________________________

Charity Burbage’s face flashed before his eyes, the woman’s torchured expression, pleading with that damned Headmaster to save her life. Like a snivelling little follower, that arse had done nothing. Even Draco himself had done nothing and he hated himself for it. How simple yet how complex it would’ve been to say one word, four letters, Stop. The word was easy to say and the consequences would’ve cost him and his parents his life.

The blonde tossed in his bed, noting with a grumble that his pillow case was starting to taste slightly salty from the residue of nightmares that poured from his eyes involuntarily in sleep.

After ten minutes and not even a drop of sleep coming to him, he finally threw the covers off his body and stepped out of his bed. 

He walked out to the common room and looked around for something to do. He wished that they’d keep bookshelves or fridges in the common rooms. He’d risk going down to the kitchens for something to do. 

Throwing on a black jacket, he slipped out the portrait. Nell was fast asleep in her portrait. He cast a Disillusionment spell on himself and roamed the halls to the kitchen, making sure his steps were light and undetectable. Nevertheless, the castle was centuries old and you could hear a creak every so often.

“Damn castle, it’s creaking again. Unless…?” He heard Argus round the corner and he quickly backed into a corner, hoping his charm was cast well enough to hide himself completely.

“Come out! You’re cooked this time!” Draco held his breath.He was glad Filch was a squib because it meant that he couldn’t use a simple Homenum Revelio. Filch roamed the hall and looked around with a scowl before heading to another wing. 

Releasing a soft breath, Draco headed to the kitchen, looking around at the sleeping portraits.

He stopped at a portrait of a young couple with their son. In the picture, they couldn’t have been more than 21, no more than kids themselves. The woman had bright red hair let loose and falling in waves over her shoulder, her bright green eyes sparkling as she cooed at her son, not noticing Draco.She was dressed in a slightly oversized woolen gray sweater with denim shorts and black Converse hightops. He thought nothing of it until he saw the man holding his son.

The man had a mop of unruly black hair and laughing hazel eyes, the picture print of Potter. He had smart black glasses and outlined muscles. And that must’ve meant the grubby little baby he was holding was Potter. Of course they’d have a portrait of perfect Potter and his perfect loving parents. 

Draco watched with longing eyes at the couple. They seemed so warm, so in love. They were sitting next to each other, tickling baby Potter and playing with him, sharing looks and kisses every so often. The dynamic between them was a world away from his parents. 

Where there were playful tickles and rocking, he had gotten stoic nannies. His mother had come in sometimes to spend time with Draco as a kid, but his father had always put him back to work, trying to drill his values into his son. Where there were affectionate gazes and passionate kisses between the couple in the picture, his parents hadn’t so much as looked at each other after his conception. They needed an heir and that was it. He grazed the surface of the portrait with two long fingers, wishing that somehow he could absorb the love. 

Getting lost in his thoughts, he didn’t know that the Disillusionment charm had worn off.

“Mister Malfoy?” said a voice from behind him. He swivelled around to see McGonagall.

“Professor,” he acknowledged. 

“What exactly are you doing out of bed?” she asked him, her tone curious and serious, but not scolding.

“I couldn’t sleep and I was hungry. You should really consider putting more facilities in the common room, you know.” She raised a brow and he realized he had overstepped, blushing. 

She noticed the portrait he was looking at and smiled, walking over beside him. “The Potters. Both of them were very dear to me. It seems the Potters have an affinity for red heads.”

“Really? I can’t imagine why,” he snorted. She shot him a disapproving look and he seemed to remember his place.

“My five favorite students and 3 of them are dead and 1 of them turned traitor,” she sighed wistfully, an emotion that he would not have expected Minerva McGonagall to show. 

“At least they were someone’s favorite,” he muttered, letting the words slip out without a second thought. McGonagall looked over at him with a look of mild surprise.

“What do you mean by that, Mr. Malfoy?” she asked him, intrigue lacing her tone. “You’re very rich, correct? Your name is held in high esteem and your family is in a high position in the Ministry? What more would you want?” She asked this feigning innocence, knowing exactly what was weighing on the boy.

“All of that is true and I suppose anyone else might be willing to overlook the means of getting there, but somehow I can’t,” he sighed, running a hand through his light blonde hair. “But still I do nothing to stop it. That makes me a bad person or an odd person, doesn’t it?”

McGonagall had a small smile playing on her face. There was hope for the boy after all. “On the contrary, Mr. Malfoy, I think rethinking your lifestyle makes you a very, very good person. Maybe rethink it again and you might find you have more options than you think.”

“Options?”

“I for one know that Ms. Granger is getting along just fine with Ms. Parkinson. Just an observation.”

With that, she turned away and started walking back to her teachers’ quarters. 

“Aren’t you going to take points?” he asked her. “For being out past curfew?”

A ghost of a smile slipped past her lips. “We can let it go this time, can’t we?”


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is scared by Hermione's understanding and he talks with Blaise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this house, Hermione Granger is white, but has tan skin and golden freckles because I think its cute and they never say otherwise. Don’t @ me. 
> 
> On a different note, Dramione is starting to be kinder to each other, but you know how they are. 2 steps forward, 1 step back.

Draco took the old biddy’s words to heart. For the next days, every time he felt the urge to say something snarky to Granger or her sniveling little friends, he really couldn’t. Her words echoed throughout his mind, giving him false hope that he might actually have a choice to where his future was heading. As if! But still, he found himself praying he might have a way out that had minimal casualties.

So on Friday, he really wasn’t surprised when she started to talk to him during patrols after dinner. They usually had a sort of silent agreement to patrol for an hour, saying as little as they could, but this time, she actually spoke to him.

“Malfoy?” she asked tentatively, though her tone was hard and cold.

“Yes, Granger?” he responded flatly, staring at the floor with glaring intensity, refusing to look at her.

“Your attitude has been plaguing me for days now,” she said curtly, cutting straight to the point. “For some unfathomable reason, you have been unfailingly polite to me. I’m not going to assume anything ghastly, but would you care to explain why on Earth you’ve been so cordial?”

He stiffened at her question, shifting uncomfortably. He hadn’t even told Blaise about the talk with McGonagall and he certainly wasn’t going to tell Granger.

“Well?” she demanded bossily. Oh Granger, always so authoritarian.

“Why, do you have a problem with it?” he asked, consistently polite the entire time while gritting his teeth.

“No,” she denied, shaking her head. “Of course not. It’s rather...refreshing.”

“Good, why do you ask then?” he inquired, his voice stably flat and monotoned. It wasn’t rude, but it wasn’t exactly friendly. It was neutral, it couldn’t be taken the wrong way.

“You’re usually so…” Even she struggled to find a word that wasn’t offensive?

“Rude? Disparaging? Crass? Prat like?” he completed, the right end of his lip upturning slightly, his face drifting to look at her embarrassed expression.

“Truthfully, yes,” she agreed sheepishly, her Mediterranean toned skin tinging a light pink.

To her surprise, he let a small laugh escape his mouth before his face went back into the impassive stare he seemed to don these days. “I was just exhausted of having everybody hate me all the time and I thought I might be a decent person until I’m forced to slaughter all the good people in this world,” he shrugged, telling the half truth.

“I… respect that,” she said softly, her eyes flitting from the floor to meet his gray eyes. “But you don’t have to commit yourself to that crime even after we graduate.”

“Believe me, Granger, I’d do anything for a choice. Hell, I’d kiss you if I could get out of this hell,” he snorted, making her blush again.

“Anything?” she asked softly, her brown eyes softening as she looked at the vulnerable boy.

He nodded, knowing if he said anything, it would come out way too soft.

“I don’t think you would,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “I can name one thing you wouldn’t do. At least, not yet.”

“Oh really? What?”

“Forsake your parents,” she said seriously, her big eyes boring deep into his.

Whoop, there it was. One conversation and she had hit the target right in the center. Draco did not like how she could read him so well.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied, finally looking away from those bloody doe eyes. She had exactly 23 freckles around her nose, had anyone ever told her that?

“Draco, I think you do,” she said intensely, still looking at him. He was slightly taken aback by the use of his first name, but it seemed to roll off her tongue so easily that he might have overlooked it if he wasn’t so observant.

For a moment, he wanted to open up, he wanted to finally let somebody understand. She seemed to do it so well, she seemed to be so wise and so comforting, that he almost forgot he was talking to Hermione Granger, the person his father despised second most and then reality hit him almost as hard as puberty had.

“It’s been an hour. We should go,” he mumbled just barely unintelligibly, pushing past her and shoving his hands in his pockets, making a beeline for his dorm room.

_____________________

As soon as he was in the room where Blaise and Theo were sleeping soundly, impulse and frustration took over. Before he could think about it, his fist collided with the wall and his jaw was clenched, eyes burning in a sensation he was no stranger to. Theo, being ever the heavy sleeper, just stirred a bit and tossed over, falling back to sleep. Blaise, on the other hand, sat up in bed and blinked a few times. He had just gotten back from his own patrols with the dreamy Luna Lovegood and was just drifting off when Draco came in.

“Draco?” he mumbled, stretching out in the dark. He turned on the light near his bed and hopped out. “What’s wrong?” Draco gripped the edge of his bed frame tightly.

“Frigging Granger,” he cursed, tightening his hold. He could feel the bruises on his knuckle and the wood digging into his palm, but he didn’t care. He needed to feel something, anything. Even pain would work.

“What did she do?” Blaise sighed, walking over to him and prying his hands off the splintery wood.

“She didn’t do anything, that’s the bloody problem. She made me feel… understood...better.”

“So, what’s the problem then?” Blaise asked boredly, genuinely confused to why Draco was so angsty all the time. The boy needed to calm down sometimes.

“She’s… Granger of all people! She made me feel like for once in my sodding life I have a choice! She told me that I had a choice to leave if I left my parents, but she knew I’m not going to do that. She-she… saw right through me. No one’s ever done that before except you three, not even Mother.”

Draco looked up at Blaise with eyes that reminded him of a child that had strayed from his parents in the big city: lost, affrighted, and confused.

“Draco, can I say something you’ll probably want to punch me for?” Blaise said solemnly, doing the math in his head.

“Sure,” the blonde huffed.

“Have you ever considered that maybe she may be able to get you and your mother out of the situation or even just you if Narcissa if she doesn’t leave your father? She has connections in the Order. She’s the bloody golden girl of our age. You could redeem yourself in her eyes. Friendship isn’t that improbable. I mean, look at our Pans.”

“You’re right, I do want to punch you,” Draco responded snippily, shooting daggers at him.

Blaise held his hands out in surrender. “Just a suggestion. If you really wanted to vindicate yourself-”

“Of course I do, Blaise!” he interrupted, his eyes burning and baleful. “But at what cost? My father’s life? Mine? Worse, maybe Mother’s?” He felt a tear or two slip out of his eyes and he wiped them furiously, hating to show any sign of emotion. The thought of his loving mother’s body completely lifeless in front of him for no fault of her own was too much for him to bear.

Blaise looked conflicted, knowing where Draco was coming from. Damn his friend’s natural compassion. He tried to hide it, but when Draco cared, he really cared. To everyone else, he was stoic and unfeeling.

“I’ll give you that one,” he sighed defeatedly. “But if you really want to not end up Azkaban at the end of all this, you’ve got to make sacrifices.”

The boys sat in silence for a minute before Blaise got up slowly. “I’m tired, I’ll see you in the morning. Just… sleep on it, okay?”

Draco nodded solemnly and stripped down to his drawers, throwing on a shirt and sweatpants before climbing into bed for another tumultuous night of terrors in his sleep.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco meets my good friend perspective and Blaise and Luna bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE comment and let me know what you think! I try and respond to all of the comments!

Saturday didn’t come fast enough. Hermione could finally stop letting her mind be plagued with certain Death Eater professors and reluctant sad and handsome Death Eater students and let loose with her friends. 

Ginny, Luna, and Hermione met up with Neville in the common room. 

“Hermione, your hair is so much smoother these days,” Luna noticed, a smile quirking up the corners of her mouth. “Did you do something to it?”

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering that too,” Neville added. “Your natural hair is brilliant, but this looks beautiful too.”

“Oh, Parkinson taught me a glamour charm,” she remarked offhandedly. 

“It suits you,” Luna replied, brushing a lock of platinum hair behind her ear absentmindedly. “Shall we leave? I need more Butterbeer corks for the necklaces. I’ve been thinking that I should distribute some to the Slytherins. They have a lot of expensive items and we wouldn’t want them to be carried away by the Nargles.”

“Yes, we would,” Ginny muttered under her breath, quiet enough that no one heard. At that moment, Pansy slipped out of their dormitory room. 

She waved quietly as she walked towards the portrait hole. 

“Parkinson,” Hermione called, her tone friendly.

“Granger,” she greeted with a small smile. “What is it?”

“If you’re alone today, you’re free to join us,” Hermione offered for two reasons. The first one was that she genuinely enjoyed the girl’s company. The second was that if she could strike up a friendship with the Slytherin, she could manage to gain the favor of other Slytherins(one in particular) and try to convince them to join the cause.

Ginny had a visible negative reaction. She was a little jealous, truth be told, that Hermione seemed to be developing such a bond with Parkinson. Neville was neutral. He didn’t know Pansy personally and it wasn’t his place to judge. A smile spread over Luna’s face, hoping she might meet that nice Zabini boy again. He had been a perfect gentleman on patrols yesterday and he didn’t seem to mind Luna’s dreamy ramblings.

Pansy wanted to, but then remembered her promise to Draco. “I’m afraid I’m already meeting the boys in town. Perhaps I’ll see you around?”

Hermione nodded kindly and waved as the girl slipped out of the common room. 

“I’ve been dying to visit Tomes and Scrolls,” Hermione said once she left. “Does anyone want to go with me?”

“Not a chance. I’m not spending my weekend in a musty bookstore,” Ginny joked. “I’m going to visit Fred and George at the joke shop.”

“I have to pick up new dragon hide gloves and dragon dung fertilizer at the Apothecary and Dervish and Banges,” Neville refused apologetically.

“I was going to help Barb at Magical Menagerie feed the creatures for a couple galleons,” Luna said. “Maybe we should all meet at the Three Broomsticks in a in an hour.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Neville agreed.

“That works,” Ginny said as Hermione nodded. The four friends went their separate ways.

When Hermione walked into Tomes and Scrolls, she saw the last person she wanted to talk to right then. 

If he noticed her, he didn’t say anything. He looked up once from the book he was examining and continued to scan his eyes across the thick green binded cover. The only problem? He was in the very aisle Hermione wanted to look at. 

Deciding that she’d just ignore him, she marched right to the aisle and scanned the shelves, all but forgetting his presence. Unfortunately, he did not return the same.

“And I thought book worm had read all the books already. Not as smart as you think, huh?” Hermione gritted her teeth. So he was back to being a prat. She should’ve known it wouldn’t have lasted long. 

“If you’re going to be annoying, leave me the hell alone, Malfoy,” she snapped, not even bothering to look at him. She tried to focus on her book about magical medical potions, but he was making it impossible!

“Magical remedies? I’ve read that. Take a look at the one on page 13, you might find it useful.” She flipped to page 13. In big bold block letters, Pretty Up Potion was written at the top. Below it, a cheesy advert was written below it. Change your appearance! No surgery required. Easier than Polyjuice, cheaper than Muggle surgery! 

She had read about this potion before. They claimed it was easier than brewing Polyjuice, but that was only the technique. In reality, the ingredients cost a small fortune each.

“Not all of us are spoiled rich by Daddy, Malfoy. Check your privilege, will you? Or at least use it for something decent.” His jaw clenched and she smirked, knowing she had struck a chord with him. Some part of her twinged with remorse. He wanted to use it for good, it rationalized. It was the fear of losing his family that stopped him. She remembered how heart breaking it was just to erase her parents’ memories and a shudder rippled through her when she thought of them actually passing away.

“Don’t talk about my bloody father, Granger,” he growled through gritted teeth. In his eyes, everyone had it easy except for him. “You don’t know a bit about what my life is like.”

“Yes, we’ve all heard this tale. Draco ‘My father will hear about this’ Malfoy and his tragical tale of woe. Spoiled rich since day one with parents who dote on him and when Mummy and Daddy do something he doesn’t like, he doesn’t have the courage to man up and leave like his own best friends who’ve all managed to go!” 

They were arguing bitterly, but they were spitting at each other through whispers. They were both booklovers and respected the decorum of the place.

“Ugh, like you’ve done anything DRASTIC either!” That was it. That was the final breaking point.

“Haven’t I? Haven’t I made any sacrifices? Yes, I haven’t watched Sirius Black die in front of my eyes because of your dearest Auntie. I definitely haven’t watched you and your darling Snapey kill the only person keeping Hogwarts at bay and I didn’t watch you knock down the final line of defense for filthy mudbloods like me at the only place we were safe by letting Death Eaters into the castle! I haven’t watched my best friends leave me without a care in the world to go on a death mission and write to my best friend and not me. And no, I haven’t wiped the memories of two parents that loved me very much with my own hand. I haven’t watched them forget everything about me and move to Australia with no knowledge of whether I’d ever get to reunite with them. Don’t you dare tell me I haven’t made sacrifices to get here, Draco Malfoy! Don’t. You. Dare.”

He looked stunned and surprisingly humbled. He hadn’t a clue that she had to wipe the memories of her own parents and it put things into perspective. He was so hesitant to leave a man that cared more about their legacy than his own son while she had to watch her parents that loved her more than life itself have a joyful life without her in it. 

Don’t get him wrong, he still wasn’t going to march up to that imbecile father of his and say he was leaving right away, but she planted a seed of resistance in his mind.

Seeds, with time and the right care, can shoot up into beautiful trees.

____________________

Luna Lovegood had finished early and was traipsing up to the Three Broomsticks. 

She was alone so far, so she went inside and ordered a Butterbeer to go, mostly just for the cork on top. She drank it slowly, making a few magical adjustments to the cork before threading it on a string. She embellished it a bit, adding tints of dark blue and handsome colors to the wood until it looked like something a debonair rich boy would wear. She stuffed it into her pocket and paid for her Butterbeer.

None of her friends were there yet, but she did see Blaise Zabini waiting outside. He heard her coming and looked up from the spot where his eyes were transfixed on the floor as he waited for his friends.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said with a grin. Luna laughed softly, the sound like the chiming of bells. 

“Hello, Blaise,” she greeted politely. “I have something for you.” She took out the necklace and presented it proudly. “It keeps away the Nargles. You have ever so many beautiful things and I’d hate for them to get stolen.”

“Nargles, huh?” She nodded matter of factly. He outstretched his hand and she placed it in his open palm with a beaming smile. Ginny and Hermione were her best friends, but even they were skeptics of her wild theories. Blaise seemed to be fine with it, even encouraging her to speak about it.

Little did she know that all of her fantastical imaginings managed to put a little light into his day. It shrouded the dark of supremacist parents and nightmares with fantasies of creatures and wild animals.

“Would you like to go in and buy a drink? On me, of course,” he offered, knowing it was the polite thing to do.

“That sounds good,” she agreed, leading him into the store. Her walk was almost like she was dancing to a tune nobody but she could hear, rhythmic and graceful. 

They sat down across from each other in a table at the back of the shop.

Blaise called the server to their table, a middle aged woman with her blonde hair tied back with a bandanna.

“What can I get you kids?” she asked kindly as a notebook and a self writing quill popped up beside.

“Two butterbeers, please, with a shot of firewhiskey in mine.” The lady raised an eyebrow at him. He was seventeen and of age, but she didn’t know that. It was protocol to ask anyone that looked under twenty five for identification.

“Wand?” He let her examine it and swish it a couple times and do a small verbal incantation to check the age of the bearer. She gave it back to him and nodded impassively, going off to get their drinks. There was a moment of silence between the two students.

“So, Lovegood-”

“Luna,” she corrected. “If we’re to be friends, you should call me Luna.”

Their drinks arrived at their table and Blaise handed the woman a galleon and told her to keep the change.

“Thank you,” he said to the woman. Luna nodded politely at her.

“Aren’t you here with Granger and her friends today?” he said.

“I was. We were supposed to meet here in fifteen minutes, but I got done early and I decided to come here and make a cork necklace for you,” she said happily, taking a long sip of her Butterbeer. Blaise mirrored her and took a sip of his.

“Same, but the others were supposed to be here already. Draco’s probably brooding at the book store and Pansy and Theo are probably making out in a corner somewhere,” he chuckled, a genuine smile spreading over his face. She giggled softly.

“I have a good imagination but sometimes I really curse it,” she laughed, wincing at the picture of Pansy and Theo making out. She took a slow sip of her drink.

“Ewww, you made me imagine it too,” he cringed, swigging some of his spiked Butterbeer. When he set his cup down, she suppressed a giggle. “What?”

“You have a little something everywhere, Blaise,” He had a thick mustache of white foam, the contrast stark between his smooth dark skin. She reached out with a napkin and swiped it off. Luna seemed to find this a completely normal occurrence as Blaise blushed. 

“There,” she announced proudly, smiling slightly at the boy.

“Thank you,” he said softly. Luna looked at the ground shyly under his gaze that radiated warmth. 

From the window, Pansy and Theo high fived.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaise and Luna catch Hermione and the other Slytherins in an act. Draco and Hermione talk in the common room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cute Dramione fluff in this chapter! We get to see the beginnings of her and the Slytherins' friendship.

It was about five minutes before the scheduled meet up time when Hermione walked in the Three Broomsticks, Draco trailing close behind her. They hadn’t talked or even so much as nodded at each other, but they were heading to the same destination.

So you can imagine their surprise when they saw Luna and Blaise laughing together inside the Three Broomsticks. 

“What. The. Bloody. He-” He was pulled to the side abruptly by Theo and Hermione was pulled aside by Pansy.

“Shh,” Pansy hissed. 

“What the hell, Pansy?” he asked with a scowl.

“They’re cute together, I don’t want to ruin this by showing up,” she said as if it was supposed to be obvious. She didn’t seem to care that Hermione was there or that Draco had despised her or that Theo didn’t know her. 

He peered inside and saw the dreamy blonde laughing quietly at something his Italian friend had said. They did look blissfully content with the other.

“I see where you’re coming from,” Hermione acquiesced, smiling at the new friendship. “He seems to be one of the only people who enjoys Luna’s presence. Her company is an… acquired taste.” 

“Luna Zabini! I can see it now,” Pansy sighed romantically. The other three’s eyes widened in sync.

“Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Theo said. “They’ve only just talked twice.”

“I second that,” Draco muttered. “I didn’t even know he was into Luna. Did he tell you this?” he asked Pansy, a little jealous that Blaise hadn’t come to him.

“Well, no,” Pansy admitted with a blush. “But I know he does! I can feel it in my heart!”

“Just like you felt in your heart that Potter and Granger would fall in love in third year?” he asked dryly, raising his left eyebrow.

“That was different,” Pansy sniffed defensively. “I was young and unaware.”

“Can’t blame her,” Hermione shrugged. “Most people did. Harry and I were two peas in a pod.”

“Two peas in a what now?” Theo asked incredulously. Hermione remembered that she was the only muggleborn in the vicinity and that they weren’t familiar with idioms used in Mugge life.

“It’s a Muggle locution,” she explained. “It’s used when two people are close or tight-knit, like you and Pansy.”

“I’d say that was about accurate,” Pansy said sweetly, wrapping an arm around her boyfriend. Theo smiled back at her, pulling her closer and placing a soft kiss on her lips. 

“Gross...” Draco gagged mockingly. Hermione thought it was sweet, but didn’t say anything. It made a pang go through her to see them so happy while her own almost-boyfriend hadn’t even bothered to write to her. Theo rolled his eyes.

“You’re just mad you don’t have someone of your own,” Theo retorted, kissing Pansy on the temple once more.

“I know I am,” Hermione agreed playfully.

“You didn’t let me finish, Theo. I was going to say gross… but kind of cute too,” Draco agreed with a smile. Hermione saw the first genuine smile of his. It went all the way up to his eyes and the dark dove gray brightened. His entire face seemed to get more handsome and two dimples impressed upon his cheeks. 

“Aww, Draco, you big old softie,” Theo teased. 

“Why are you all out here?” somebody asked from behind them. They all flitted their eyes to see a curious Luna and a smirking Blaise.

“Well… hi, guys!” Pansy greeted innocently. “We were just…”

“Spying on us?” Blaise finished dryly.

“No, just giving you a nudge in the right direction,” Pansy disagreed. 

“In what direction is that?” Luna asked.

“In the relationship direction,” Draco replied with a smirk. Pansy blushed furiously as did Blaise and Luna, obviously.

“She’s convinced you’re hopelessly in love,” Hermione laughed to Luna.

“Well, you’ve had your first date!” Pansy said defensively.

“It was a fifteen minute sharing of drinks, Pans. It was hardly a date. We’re just friends, trust me,” Blaise reassured. 

“You weren’t friends the last time you met,” Theo pointed out wryly. “Progress.”

“Blaise happens to be a very nice boy, but he’s right. I’ve never really dated before and I don’t plan on it,” Luna said indifferently.

“You’ve never had a partner?” Blaise said in surprise.

“No, I suppose I’m not very attractive to boys. Or girls, though I am inclined towards the male form,” she said observantly, tucking her wand behind her ear for safekeeping

“I beg to differ,” Blaise snorted, only to be met with a sea of smirking faces. “Oh, you lot need to come off it! Luna is an attractive woman who happens to be my friend! So is Pansy! Doesn’t mean I want to date her!”

“Sure,” Hermione said flatly. 

“Oh, not you too, Granger!” Blaise complained.

“For the first time, I’d have to agree with Granger,” Theodore said sagely. 

“Draco, you’re quite silent,” Pansy observed. “What’s on your mind?

“Nothing, just… thinking,” he said introspectively. All his friends seemed to be moving on, getting over their prejudices. What was wrong with him and why couldn’t he?

“You mean brooding,” Blaise snorted. “Draco Malfoy never just “thinks”.

He rolled his eyes and tried to make sense of all his friends suddenly turning over a new leaf and being pleasant to people that before, they’d all agreed they hated.

Salazar, he needed a drink.

_____________________

Hermione was reading in the common room later that night. She was curled up in Muggle flannel pajamas, her feet toasty warm in slippers. She had thrown on a blanket and was reading Pride and Prejudice by the fire.

She was surprised when the boys’ dorm room door burst open. “Granger,” a voice announced. She looked up to see Draco Malfoy marching out of the door dramatically. He was still in a suit, but he had taken off the jacket and was in dark suit pants. His white shirt was rumpled and the first few buttons were undone to reveal the beginnings of his muscular chest. Hermione had to look away to hide her blush. Even after being friends with two boys for seven years, she was still so modest.

“Malfoy?” she said quizzically, raising an eyebrow. “What…?”

“I need your help,” he admitted, his voice a soft mumble. 

“What was that?” she said, straining her ear to hear him.

“I need your help,” he said again, louder. Confusion flashed across her mind, but she stayed cool. Draco Malfoy, asking her for help?

“And why would that be?”

“I need you to teach me how to be good. It sounds completely thick, but you need to tell me how to be a nice person.”

“Me? Why me?” She closed her book and placed it on the seat beside her gingerly. 

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re the Golden Girl of the revolution. If anyone can teach me how to be all goody goody, it’s you,” he snorted.

“You’re not helping your case,” she observed flatly. “First, you need an attitude change, Malfoy. I can’t help you until you realize it isn’t about being ‘goody goody’,” She put air quotes around the words. “It’s about putting good into the world.”

“Whatever it is, how do I do it? Is there a book or something I should read?” he asked. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Of course not. It’s practical, not theoretical. The only way to be a good person is to do good things and not expect anything in return.”

“Like?” 

“For example, you might try to be a little more polite to people in general,” she suggested. “Try treating people with more respect. Contrary to your belief, your family name does not make you superior to others, even if they aren’t purebloods.”

“My father would disapprove,” he murmured. “Brilliant, what’s next?”

She looked surprised that he was so cavalier about it and said, “That’s about it…”

“Just do halfway decent things? That’s it?” he said warily. “It always seems a lot harder.”

“It sounds easy, but it can be a lot harder than anticipated sometimes. I’d know, that’s half the reason I haven’t strangled you to death yet. I suppose it’s too much to ask to tell Voldy dearest to stop slaughtering people?” she asked sarcastically. 

“Too frigging soon.”

“Nope,” she sang. “You’re supposed to be nice to me.”

“I already regret this,” he called to her as he left the room. 

She picked her book up, rolling her eyes playfully and saying to him, “Love you too, Malfoy.”


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has a nightmare and thinks back on a painful memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I was streaming folklore by Taylor Swift! It's the best album I've ever heard! Go check it out and vote for Taylor to win the 5 VMAs she's nominated for! Get cardigan to #1!
> 
> THE LATTER HALF OF THE CHAPTER HAS A TW: SELF HARM. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN CAUTION.
> 
> Please tell me if I can do the portrayal better. I personally have not had to experience it, but I think it's very realistic for Draco. If you think I'm not broaching the subject correctly, please inform me. I didn't actually describe the scene, but it's implied.

_“Choose,” he rasped with a sick grin. Draco looked at the ashen faced man with eyes brimming with tears, shaking his head._

_On the left side stood his regular summer company, a group of submissive men and women all cloaked in black with masks frightening enough to make Medusa run for the hills. His father stood at the forefront, silently asking-no, ordering- him to choose them. His mother looked less sure and he could’ve sworn she had looked to the other side wistfully._

_Beside Lucius stood a girl of his age grinning wickedly. She had stringy sand brown hair and cold blue eyes. She raised her hand to wave to him and you could see the glimpse of a diamond ring, one of the most expensive ones from the Malfoy vault._

_On the right side stood his recent company. Blaise was looking at Lovegood with concern, Pansy and Theo were grasping hands tightly, and Granger was solitary, a fiercely determined expression evident on her face. She stood proudly, not quivering or afraid in a light pink shirt and jeans. She was glowering at the Dark Lord with surprising intensity. Her expression turned to Draco and softened, her hazel eyes pleading._

_Her mouth opened hesitantly and she mouthed, “Put good into the world.”_

_So when Draco glanced briefly between the two sides, one full of blackmail and deceit and the other full of support, he almost knew what to choose. In that moment, his father’s archaic policy about family values and elitism almost seemed obsolete to him. But then, reality came crashing down when he saw a tear slip down his mother’s cheek on the other side when he started to hesitantly reach to the other side._

_“I-I I can’t choose,” he said shakily, his voice embarrassingly weak, broken._

_“Choose,” he simply repeated. Draco’s eyes traveled to his father who was glaring disapprovingly at him, teeth gritted and waiting impatiently. His mother looked trapped. “Choose well and you will be rewarded handsomely.”_

_A soft sob escaped Pansy’s mouth on the other side._

_“I-I… I can’t choose you. I can’t… I can’t be responsible for that,” he told Voldemort through tears he didn’t know were falling, breathless and shaking his head desperately._

_“Have it your way,” he simply said, flicking his wand. A chasm opened up beneath him, swallowing him and his parents quickly. He was falling, falling, falling…_

_It was almost a relief to realize he’d be put out of his misery, but he never hit the ground._

Draco jolted awake, panting as he shot up in bed, hair sticky with sweat and shirt rumpled from tossing around.

This was the third night in a row. He had just asked Granger his questions, but her words only added an extra aspect to the recurring nightmare.

“Shit,” he cursed quietly when he saw the wet spot on his pillow where his eyes had been near. The cleaning elves were starting to get suspicious to why he needed to wash his pillow cases every damn day. He ripped off the cover and threw it aside, slamming the pillow back on the bed. It was silly, but he got even madder when he realized it wouldn’t make a loud sound.

“I hate this,” he said to no one in particular but himself, quiet enough so the gentle sound of the Whomping Willow’s branches swaying in the wind outside could drown it out. “Screw it all.”

He wiped the salty residue of tears off of his face roughly, the liquid feeling raw as the friction stung his skin.

After an hour of tossing and turning to no avail, he took to putting on a pair of shoes and walking straight out of the dorm, out of the common room and towards the Stone Bridge tower. He wouldn’t get in too deep of trouble because Alecto, head of Slytherin house, was in charge of his punishments and she knew better than to try Draco’s patience.

He strode through the halls quietly and climbed the staircases to the top of the tower. He sighed quietly when he felt a warm draft pass through, rustling his platinum hair. The end of summer weather was pleasant enough.

The moon was almost full, not quite a full circle, but almost there. Just a miniscule sliver was missing.

He sat just by the ledge that overlooked the Black Lake, the dark water rippling. Every so often, he spotted a fish or some other creature peek its head out. Sometimes, you could see the luminescent shadow of a mermaid slipping by.

**[TRIGGER STARTING HERE]**

The moonlight also illuminated the small marks on his forearms, the faint almost healed scars outlined in the dreamy white rays of light. He examined his hand, running his right finger down the jagged lines.

It was sixth year.

He had gotten branded with the mark.

Theo had just gotten up the courage to tell her parents to go straight to hell and Pansy had already sent the fateful letter the year before. Blaise’s mother wasn’t a Death Eater, but she was an elitist and Blaise had stopped subscribing to her views.

It was only he who seemed to be trapped in a cycle of spiraling hate.

It was easier for the Notts and the Parkinsons. The Dark Lord did not hold them to any expectations. Their family wasn’t important to him in the slightest and when Theo and Pansy left, he didn’t give a damn because he had hundreds of willing members.

The Malfoys, however, were held in great esteem and expected to keep that esteem due to their ties with the House of Black. That meant that if Draco dared to put a toe out of line, it was off with their heads, and that meant Draco and his family were in charge of the guy’s dirty work. The only way he could leave is if his father and mother somehow managed to escape You Know Who, and given the fact that his father was the one who pushed him into crime, it was unlikely.

So when he found out his task, the weight of it had hit him like tons of brick. He was supposed to kill a man. It was too much to comprehend and the frenzy of thoughts that raced inside his head when he had done it was too much to describe in coherent words without leaving some part out. All that he knew is that one minute, he couldn’t bear a single thought more and he had conjured a shard of glass and the next moment, red was bleeding through his white shirt and it felt… good, in the strangest way.

He had been horrified with himself. He thought only people in the looney bin did things like that! It was a sign of weakness and he couldn’t afford that. He was lucky he wore long sleeves regularly so people would be less suspicious, but for weeks after, he was always hyper aware of his arm. If he bruised it too much, the cut would reopen. In time, it had closed, but the scar still remained.

The next time was when Charity Burbage was murdered in front of him. That summer night in his bed, it had happened again, the overwhelming drowning feeling. He had desperately torn a splinter off the back of his wood bed frame and did a quick Reparo when he finished so he didn’t alarm his parents.

And the third when the Vanishing Cabinet was fixed. He knew the Death Eaters would be infiltrating the next night and he had taken the red tinted shard of glass out from the folded cloth at the bottom of his trunk.

The next after he had watched the life escape from Dumbledore’s eyes. It had almost been him. He remembered feeling suffocated, as if he would’ve rather jumped off the Astronomy Tower. His wand had trembled wildly in his hands and he could barely form the sound “A” in his mouth. That night in his room had been spent awake, the sounds of his panic echoing round the place. The glass had been taken out once again.

That old crank had been trying to use reverse psychology and get him to leave. He desperately wanted to, but his Aunt Bellatrix had been hissing murderous encouragements in his ear all the while. It almost helped that Snape had taken the wand from him and done the deed himself. It had lowered their esteem a little, but his father had done enough boot licking to earn it back.

Since then, the scars were just painful mementos of painful times.

Now, look at him. He was a bloody mess. If he knew anything about how the Dark Lord worked, he’d be expected to lead an assault on Hogwarts from the inside by the end of the year. He was to be married to an icy and snotty elitist girl, someone he despised, but would still be forced to spend his life with, have children who he’d have to raise to be just like him, a hopeless failure to humankind, and the cycle would never be unbroken. He’d get prestige for murder, power for pain, esteem for hate.

He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the fateful shard of glass, clear and mirroring, but with a tint of red where the blood hadn’t washed out. He watched as the glass threw light at the wall as the moon rays bounced off its surface. He saw the fringes of his blonde hair in the reflective surface, then the cold pain in his silver eyes.

Oh, pain there was. The emotion in his eyes was raw and unadulterated pain, his eyes bloodshot and melancholy. Anyone could see he was suffering, his clothes rumpled, hair matted, eyes tired and woeful. It set something off in him, pushed something over the edge.

That night, he walked out with a new scar, his arms folded over each other so he wouldn’t have to see sticky red liquid soaking through the forearm of his black shirt, feeling simultaneously better and worse.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione strengthens friendships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My two favorite broTPs and favorite OTP. Slightly longer chapter to make up for the wait.

_HG,_

_No progress. Stuck on destroying the two we have. Love you and G_

_-H and R_

_H and R,_

_I almost wish I’d gone out there with you two. I miss you so much. Did you try Fiendfyre? Reversal incantation is ignis subsisto. G and I miss you guys so much._

_Love,_

_HG_

She sent Hedwig(who’s feathers were mud(and dare she say, blood) spattered) off with the letter, tears brimming in her eyes. She would have liked to give the bird a bath, feed her something nice, but she knew Hedwig’s white plumage couldn’t risk being seen being seen by the common people if they were tracking the owl. It would put her and her friends at risk.

She had just woken up to the sound of fluttering wings on a Tuesday morning. She was still in her pyjamas, but it was imperative Hedwig didn’t stay longer than necessary.

“How long was it?” Ginny asked tenderly from behind her, walking up to put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. 

“Thirteen words,” Hermione whispered, casting her eyes downwards.

“That’s a new low,” Ginny responded sympathetically, seemingly miffed. “I get they’re busy and it has to be confidential, but you’re their bloody best friend!”

“I don’t… sometimes… I think,” Hermione tried to shake the idea out of her head, the deep rooted fear that was starting to come true, but she couldn’t.

“What, ‘Mione?”

“I think sometimes that if they really considered me as their best friend, they wouldn’t have left me behind. God knows I’m the clever one of them. All these years, did they see me as a nuisance like most other people did? Why didn’t they wake me when they left? They knew damn well I would’ve picked up and left in an instant!”

Ginny rolled her eyes and snapped, “Oi, Hermione? Shut the hell up.”

“Pardon?” Hermione said in confusion.

“You heard me. Shut. The. Hell. Up. There’s a good reason they didn’t take you and it has nothing to do with you not being wanted or whatever you’re on about. Harry depends on you like a sister and Ron, well… he hopes you won’t think of him as a brother, if you know what I mean. Take it from me because you’re not the one who has to hear your boyfriend talking about another girl being ‘absolutely bloody brilliant’ or your brother offhandedly mentioning to Seamus that your best friend is “beddable,” Ginny scoffed in disgust, her freckled nose wrinkling in distaste.

“Beddable?” Hermione scowled, her face contorting in confusion and mild distaste. “God, am I a pillow or a person?”

“Isn’t Seamus gay anyways or have I just been imagining him and Dean stealing looks at each other during classes?” Ginny asked.

“Definitely not imagining it,” Hermione replied, shaking her head. She'd learned that the hard way when she'd caught them snogging in a corridor during patrols last year. It had been an awkward confrontation and they;d been blushing the entire time when she'd taken five points off for 'sexual misconduct'. Nevertheless at their request, she had refrained

“Whatever. My point is that just because our boys are a bunch dense dolts who can’t see that they’d succeed fifty times faster with you, doesn’t mean they value you any less. Kingsley is the only other person who’s heard from them,” Ginny said emphatically, squeezing her shoulder.

Hermione looked out the window where Hedwig was just a small speck in the far distance.

“I suppose that makes me feel better. It’s hard because before them, I hadn’t a single friend and now they’re gone too,” she sighed sadly, wrapping her arms around herself.

“But now you have me and Neville and Luna and I hate to admit it, but it looks like Parkinson is going to be on that list soon,” Ginny comforted, wrapping an arm around the taller girl. Hermione leaned her head down on Ginny’s and reciprocated the embrace.

“God, what would I do without you?” Hermione expressed sincerely.

Ginny snorted and nudged her playfully. “You tell me, Miss War Hero.”  
____________________

Hermione was in the common room an hour after dinner, scratching away at her Transfiguration homework.

“Human… to animal… spell,” she muttered, lifting the sugar quill she had bought at Hogsmeade to her mouth. You could see the spark ignite in her eyes as she got an idea and she scrawled something down in her neat handwriting. You could hear the gears turn in her brain as the brilliant girl solved the problems in a matter of minutes. 

She looked up when she heard somebody come in from the hallway, climbing through the portrait. 

She smiled slightly when she saw the tan brunette she had slowly been getting closer with, though they still were not on first name basis. It seemed almost strange that after all these years of enmity and believing the other to be vicious and aggressive, they could grow to like each other, but each of them was nevertheless tentatively inching towards a friendship.

Pansy started to walk into the girls dorm, wanting to retire early for the night.

Hermione focused on her homework again, this time setting her mind to editing the essay she had to write, edit, revise, and turn in by Monday. It was premature, but all her other homework was done.

“Granger?” said a careful voice. Hermione looked up to see Pansy looking at her nervously, hand poised on the doorhandle of the girls dormitory in case she needed to make a quick get away. 

“Hmm?” she hummed in response.

“I just scrounged up enough money to buy myself new daily clothes and I thought I might need a lady’s opinion. The boys are sweet and all, but sometimes there’s things they wouldn’t understand. Basically, I need another fashionable woman’s honest opinion on clothes and I thought of you. What I’m trying to say is that… would you care to accompany me to Hogsmeade this weekend for a bit of shopping?” she breathed cheerfully, a small hopeful smile forming on her lips.

Hermione was taken aback(though not in a bad way). Knowing the subtleties that these kind of invitations held, it was good as Pansy marching up to her and proclaiming that she wanted to be friends. 

Nevertheless, she comported herself coolly and calmly and responded, “I think that would work with me.”

Pansy didn’t try to hide her happiness, her face splitting into small excited grin. “Thank you, I need a girls trip once in a while to escape from all that testosterone,” she divulged with a twinkle in her green eyes. “To be honest, I didn’t expect you to agree considering our history.”

Without missing a beat, Hermione replied with a conspiratorial smile, “Well, I suppose that’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

“I think you’re right...Hermione,” she agreed, the girl’s first name sounding strange on her lips.

They heard a door close loudly and their heads snapped to the boys dorm room door beside Pansy.

Draco looked between the friendly girls with a strange frown, a book in hand. Since when these two so buddy buddy? 

“I’m not… interrupting something, am I?” he asked carefully, eyes flitting between the girls.

Pansy rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly on the arm. “She’s not my type. I prefer taller people, no offense, Hermione. Considering Theo is an exact six feet, I’d say I did pretty well.”

“I suppose that’s fair, considering you’re only five feet five,” he smirked playfully, staring at Pansy with brotherly affection and patting the top of her head. He stood at eight inches taller than the short figured girl, standing at 5’11’’ at his full height. Sometimes his height could be intimidating to 5’6” Hermione, but what she lacked in stature she made for with brain power.

Pansy scowled at him and rolled her eyes at his teasing.

“Plus, I don’t know about Pansy, but I’d say that I’m pretty straight,” Hermione pointed out with a small smirk at the seemingly hard hearted Draco’s display of friendly affection for Pansy. You could tell it wasn’t romantic, more a brotherly protectiveness over the girl. 

“Trust me, I’m the bi-est person you’ll ever meet,” Pansy replied with a small laugh, sounding unmistakably proud of it, as she should've been. “Years of being closeted and repressed builds up. Anyways, I’m going to retire for the night. I’m exhausted from Carrow’s class.”

“Night,” Hermione greeted quietly, going back to writing on the parchment that was almost a foot long now.

“Goodnight, Pans,” Draco bade with a casual wave as she disappeared into the shared bedroom. 

Draco tried to ignore the muggle born across from him as much as possible and slouched on the chair across from her, opening his book to the seventy third page where he had left off the last night. It was near impossible to do so with the seemingly deafening scratch of a quill on parchment. She’s occasionally tap her fingers on the wood desk, her nails creating a rhythmic drumming. It never bothered him before, but Granger was sitting right across from him and well… her very presence demanded attention from him.

Before, it was an irritating and nagging kind of presence, but now… now she seemed human in his eyes after the encounter at the book store. His eyes came up slightly, almost hidden by the open book, to land on her. 

Her golden brown hair was tied up in a loose and low pony tail, stopping at her upper back. A few strands had escaped it in her academic exploits and every so often, her hand would lift up to brush one back behind her ear. There was the smallest furrow in her brow, a crease that went away only when her mind was at rest, which was almost never. 

For the first time, Draco noticed her very casual clothing. Outside of classes, she usually had on every day wear, but he had never paid attention to that until now because he was usually too distracted trying to come up with a comeback to her whip smart comments. Hermione was wearing a gray shirt with short sleevs and blue athletic shorts that showed off legs that were in no way slim, but muscular. Her legs were long, olive, toned, and had slight impressions of scars from years ago, but their human flaws seemed to make her more beautiful. 

He shook the thought out of his head(the delirium of his shitty life must’ve been getting to him) and tried to focus on reading.

Again, the taps and scratches seemed like sonic booms to his ears. He gritted his teeth and tried to concentrate on whatever stupid Quidditch maneuver the book was prattling on about. 

Sloth Grip Roll tap. 

The player scratch. Hangs upside down tap. On their broomstick tap.

“Can you stop that incessant annoyance?” he sighed, snapping his book shut with a thud. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she responded, eyes on her homework as she continued to write. “I’m doing my homework.”

“The Transfiguration essay due in a week?” he asked dryly, raising an eyebrow. As he crossed his arms, she could’ve sworn she saw a jagged red line across one of them, but he pulled his sleeve down instinctively before she could comment.

She got defensive in a wink, looking up at him to say, “I had nothing else to do-”

“I finished it,” he cut her off, making it clear there was no judgement from his side. “My father wants me to be a top notch student this year.” There was clear contempt on his side, his voice spewing badly disguised revulsion at the man.

“Weren’t you always? You got Os and only one E in all your O.W.Ls in fifth year and before, didn’t you?” she asked in confusion. He was always nipping at her heels academically. She decided against broaching sixth year, that was a tough time for all of them.

Harry and Ron had done exceptionally well that year because the majority of the year was spent in relative normalcy, but what with Ron dating Lavender and Harry’s lusting after Ginny, she had felt more alone than ever and her grades too had slipped just the smallest bit, but not large enough for anybody to catch up to her.

“Yeah, but…” The end of the sentence was clear as he shrugged and loosely gestured to her.

I didn’t pass you.

“Oh,” she said awkwardly, stirring in her seat a little. "I'm sorry about your father."

“I… I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” he apologized quietly, scratching the back of his head and laughing hollowly. Hermione barked a single laugh out, surprised by the turn of events. Within the span of less than a month, she and Malfoy had gone from bitter enemies to a grudging allyship. 

“You’re apologizing to me?” she questioned incredulously with an involuntary giggle.

“Yeah, I guess… I guess I am. Have a problem with that?” he asked with a single blonde eyebrow raised.

“No, it’s… refreshing,” she admitted with a concealed smile. 

“Good,” he said crisply with a ghost of a smile on his face.

“Good.”

“Good,” he repeated, wanting to get in the last word. With them, everything seemed to be a competition, friendlier this time than most.

She laughed softly, trying not to show her amusement and stood up, stretching her arms out. Draco tried(and failed) to avert his gaze as her shirt crept up just a little, revealing slightly toned and lightly tanned abs. He blamed it on the fact that he hadn’t had a partner in a long time.

“I’m tuckered out,” she sighed tiredly, strolling to the door to the girls dorm door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Malfoy,” she greeted shyly, a faint blush coloring her cheek at the unusually friendly interaction. It seems he had listened to her advice.

“Goodnight, Granger.”

She opened the door and slipped in before her face adorned a smirk and she stuck her head in to where he was sitting.

“Oh, and Malfoy?” He looked up at her blandly. “Despite what you think about yourself, I think as a person, you're pretty... good.” Before he could get a word in edgewise, she shut the door quietly. 

He stared at the blank ebony door for a moment with an unfamiliar fluttering throughout him. He brushed it off as hunger, but he couldn’t deny that something had changed somewhere in the middle of that short conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Good' is their 'okay''. Bonus points if you understood that reference.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens in Carrow's class is surprising, part one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to have this be like a 25 chapter fic, but considering we're on chapter 14 and they're still not even friends, I think it might be longer.

Hermione woke up extra early the next morning. She purposely ironed(or did a wrinkle free spell) her robes until they were straight and pristine, combed every annoying knot out of her bushy brown hair and tied it out of her face, organized her books, and even more applied more makeup than her standard rush job lip gloss and mascara.

She had Carrow today and she needed confidence like it was oxygen. Polishing the dust off her wand with a moist rag, she practiced a couple spells on her bed with a stray fly. 

She showed up to breakfast minutes early and waited ten minutes till her friends got there. 

“Wow, look who’s on top of her life,” Ginny remarked with a low whistle. “And I thought we were early.”

“I have Carrow today and I can’t let her get inside my head like she’s done the past couple times,” Hermione sniffed, nose proudly stuck in the air like she was Walburga Black herself. 

Neville cringed and frowned. “Me too. I’m just glad I sit in the back.”

“Not anymore,” Luna sang. “Isn’t she assigning new seats? The sixth years already got theirs, though I’m taking NEWT level like Hermione, so I’m in your class.”

“Luna’s right. Our class got ours already. I have to sit next to Colin Creevey.” She wrinkled her nose in mild distaste as the four of them ate voraciously.

“Colin’s not that bad,” Neville argued warmly. “He’s endearing if you really try and know him.”

“That is why, dearest Neville, the hat had such a hard time with you,” Ginny replied in good fun, nudging his shoulder in jest. 

“Neville’s right,” Luna agreed as Ginny frowned. “Once you get past his Harry-obsession, his energy is very compassionate.”

“Either ways, I am not going to let myself be affected by a Death Eater.” Hermione said the words with so much contempt, so much hatred, her lip curling back and her eyes flaring, that it sent a shiver down the spines of her friends for a moment.

“You seemed pretty friendly with Malfoy last night,” Luna observed matter of factly, not a hint of accusation in her tone.

Hermione paled, though she chastised herself for it. She had no reason to be ashamed for a civil conversation with someone she just barely knew. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Last night. I heard you talking to him. Was I mistaken?” she quizzed innocently.

Ginny looked at Hermione with buggy eyes. “I knew you were friendly with Parkinson, but… ferret?”

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly and hoped nobody noticed the blood rushing to her face. “He can be… tolerable. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not overlooking his bad decisions, but he’s… nice when he wants to be.”

“That’s what you said about Parkinson and now you’re practically besties,” Neville jibed with a smirk and a twinkle in his eyes. Ginny looked away, a hint of unnoticeable jealously on her face. However friendly it was, jokes were based in truth and she didn’t want her best friend to be stolen away by someone she was conditioned to despise, however strongly Pansy believed in their cause.

“Oh, stop it. We're not that close,” Hermione insisted with a roll of her eyes. “But speaking of, I’m going shopping at Hogsmeade with her this weekend for clothes, so I’m afraid I won’t be able to accompany you.”

A little sting went through Ginny, but she forced on a smile. “Good, you should do some shopping too. Treat yourself once in a while, ‘Mione.”

Hermione smiled warmly and seemed to grasp some of Ginny’s inhibitions because she squeezed the girl’s leg reassuringly. “Maybe I will. Plus, I seem to recall someone’s birthday being last month and we were all too morose to celebrate, weren’t we?”

“You don’t need to get me anything,” Ginny mumbled, but a smile gracing her face anyhow.

“Not getting my best friend a present? No way.”

____________________

After a fulfilling breakfast, Hermione strode into Carrow’s class with her head high, books pressed tightly against her chest.

A few people were there, but the most prominent was Draco Malfoy whispering smoothly and furiously to the older woman. It was half comical and half bone chilling, the amount of command and authority he had speaking to someone over double his age. She slipped into the corner and strained to hear the conversation.

“I will not partake in this… siege on a perfectly good school until the right moment, Carrow! The Dark Lord would not be pleased with whatever his pettier followers have concocted,” he scoffed, his gray eyes hard as cold steel. Hermione frowned in confusion. 

“But Lucius is right! The mudbloods do not deserve to be in this school! I don’t want to wait!” she whined childishly, a sick pout on the woman’s face, quite alike to Bellatrix. Hermione’s face turned from confusion to shock to anger. She was about ready to pull her wand out on Alecto even just after one minute of time in her classroom. 

“You know what your father wants us to do, Malfoy. Are you going to disobey him?” the woman hissed, trying(and failing) to be threatening as Draco countered her with an equally intimidating glare that made her suppress a shiver. She’d seen juvenile, rude, and crass Malfoy before, but never the menacing and downright dangerous side he was showing now. 

She had to admit… when his jaw clenched and his eyes flared with anger, he reminded her of the teen heartthrobs in all the movies that she had swooned over as a fourteen year old, except… more realistic.

“My father doesn’t need to hear about this,” he snapped, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair. 

Hermione made the mistake of snickering. Draco Malfoy, the biggest boast of his heritage, didn’t want his father to hear about whatever they were speaking about? It was both funny and sad that the boy who had once put his father on a pedestal now feared him.

Both their heads snapped to the sound and Hermione made a show of walking to her seat casually.

As soon as she was noticed, both of them stiffened and Draco gave Carrow a curt and decisive nod to show that he was ending the conversation. 

“You’ll pay, Malfoy. Even if the Dark Lord won’t allow me to take control, I at least have power over you in the classroom and I’ll make it torturous as can be,” she smirked deviously, turning her chin up in the air as if she was the great Merlin himself.

“Whatever,” he drawled, sauntering back to his seat grumpily and thudding his books down loudly. Carrow picked up a large piece of parchment that said Seating Chart in small scrawling print. She flicked her wand a few times and words flew around until she nodded in satisfaction.

Once people had settled, she grinned and announced to the room, “As I’m sure you’ve heard, NEWT level classes such as yourself shall be assigned table mates today! There’s two to a table and you will all be working out of a regulation text book provided by our… lovely Ministry.” 

She simpered unattractively and flicked her mud brown wand as a stack of books flew around the room, one landing on each desk. Hermione noticed how the muggle borns(especially hers) and Draco’s seemed to land more roughly, the thick books sliding across the smooth tables and almost hitting her with impact. It was clear Carrow spited Draco for the imbalance of power between them. 

“Now, for your groups,” Carrow said in a sickly sweet tone. She droned some name before her name caught her attention. “A last minute change was made, but the final pairs will be… Draco Malfoy with Hermione Granger at table 10.” She snarled their names just slightly. “And Blaise Zabini with Luna Lovegood at table 11.”

Draco could’ve jumped off a bridge right then and there. God, of course Carrow would pair him up with Granger. He should’ve seen it coming and he couldn’t have made a scene right there or his reputation would go to the dogs. All he’d been trying to do was protect innocent people from certain death and the universe had punished him for it.

“Move to your seats and get started on the assignment on the board,” Alecto almost sang, her eyes glinting when she saw the murderous look Draco was giving her from across the room. If he wasn’t a cold blooded killer like her, he could’ve strangled her with his bare hands. Just because he had one nice conversation with Granger didn’t mean it would be any better. 

Grudgingly, the two met at the table they were assigned.

“Good morning, Granger,” he greeted politely, setting his things down on his side of the desk.

“‘Morning, Malfoy. How do you do?” she asked with a civil smile, something she couldn’t have mustered up a month ago even if she had been paid thousands of Galleons.

“G-Alright, how about you?” He had decided against using the word ‘good.’ It was clear that neither one of them wanted to talk about the brief exchange they had the last night. It was nothing but friendly, but somehow it seemed so intimate that it was downright embarrassing for the both of them.

“Just fine. Shall we get going on the assignment?” She gestured to the fat textbook and flourished her wand with finesse.

“That sounds… fine,” he commented, flipping to page seven as instructed. The two completed the work in half the time allotted, both of them having read ahead before hand. They were practically experts on it already!

Hermione sighed dismally and looked around. Everyone else seemed to be a bit lost, but Blaise and Luna weren’t far behind, trailed by Pansy(who exchanged a look of frustration with Hermione at her less than intelligent partner) and Millicent.

“Not excited to be here?” speculated Draco, an eyebrow raised with amusement.

“No! Yes! I mean… that’s not…” she trailed off, not wanting to embarrass herself further. 

“I get it,” he laughed bitterly. “Not my preferred way to spend the period either.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, her brow furrowing. He had the strange urge to reach out and smooth it, get rid of the worry in her face. Shit, he was growing soft.

“Nothing,” he stated a bit too quickly, too sharply for both of their tastes. He had an odd defensive reflex whenever someone new got a bit too comfortable with him for his taste.

She gave him a strange look, subconsciously moving herself away. “Okay, then. I’ll leave you alone. I can take a hint.” Her tone was strangely subdued and he hated how she sounded. Why did she have to have false hope every time that he was changing for the better? Why couldn’t she settle for the fact that he was a beyond help diabolical Death Eater like everyone else?

“No,” he sighed, his hand outstretching a bit without his consent. “That’s not how I meant it.”

Her look of disappointment morphed, her hazel eyes that seemed to change color in the light transforming into a look of mild surprise.

“How did you mean it?” she inquired, her head turning to the side slightly, hope evident on her face. God, why was she so damn optimistic about his dark future? Why was he even bothering with this? He knew his fate would be in the pit of Nagini’s stomach if he dared defy or a Death Eater, but he was still holding out on embracing his disagreeable life. Some part of him still wanted to fight and he was welcoming that part more eagerly than he should have.

“Just… not that bloody way.” He didn’t elaborate very much and his eyes darted to the floor distractingly. 

“Very specific,” she snarked, rolling her eyes. He caught her eye as he glanced from the corner of his eye and looked away again. 

“You’re talkative,” she observed sarcastically. He mumbled a quick and pathetic excuse and suddenly, the wall became very interesting to him.

“I don’t understand you even a little bit, Draco Malfoy,” she commented, shaking her head. That piqued his interest.

“What exactly do you not understand, supposed Brightest Witch of our Age?”

“One minute I think we’re on good terms and the next, you’re acting like a moody twelve year old in the book shop. Next, you say you’ll try to make a concentrated effort to be kind and mind you, you were for a couple days, and you make me feel like we’re almost...friends, how impossible that may seem, but then you start ignoring me like I’m Frankie First Year!” 

“Friends?” he droned dryly, the corners of his lips turning. “You make it seem as if that’s a favorable outcome.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Stop trying to distract from the subject, Malfoy. I want answers and I won’t yield till I receive them..”

“I don’t know,” he muttered pathetically, averting his eyes from her face that was radiating the confidence he usually emitted. Something about Granger reduced even him to shambles sometimes. She was the epitome of grace and intelligence and she knew it, something about that was appealing. 

“You don’t know,” she repeated flatly. “So we’re going to go back and pretend that last night never happened?”

“Last night? God, you’d think we had a lot more than a conversation.” His ridiculing was crude and crass, but it was a shadow of what a teenage boy should be. Better inappropriate jokes than murder.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Malfoy,” she retorted, shoving him lightly and playfully. “As if I’d ever want to do that with you. And again, I expect an answer.”

“Forget it, Granger. Drop it and maybe I’ll stop being...”

“An arrogant, dramatic, defensive prat?” Her tone was sweet but her words were anything but.

‘I was going to say moody, but sure,” he mumbled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. 

“You know I’m not going to drop it,” she pressed on, her eyes boring into him with that intuitive glare she seemed to sport so well.

“You know I’m not going to bloody tell you about my problems. You’re practically the daughter of the revolution, H- Granger.”

“Touche, I understand that, but… how about you just stop being so… holed up in that mind of yours all the time? Some of us don’t mind being talked to. At least talk to Zabini or Pansy,” she urged sympathetically, reaching out to brush his arm but deciding against it. 

“Maybe,” he muttered, shrugging like he was a child.

They sat in a contemplative silence before he opened his mouth tentatively. “You know that thing you said about being friends?”

Shock struck her face and she looked at him disbelievingly. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

He frowned and shook his head. “Ugh, of course not,” he scoffed, though he didn’t mean it completely. “I was just going to offer… a truce. Almost friends, as you would say.”

And as if someone had offered her a thousand Galleons, she beamed radiantly, but her blinding grin quickly toned down into an eager little smile. Of course, the only reason she was so ecstatic was because she’d get to try and turn him to their side. The only reason.

“That sounds… good,” she agreed nonchalantly.

“Good, good.”


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dramione bonding time and Hermione receives a mission.

“You’re telling me you didn’t do your part of the essay?!” Hermione shrieked, crossing her arms over her chest and rising from where she was working on the DADA project with her partner.

“I just… didn’t feel the need,” Draco huffed casually, trying to hide the laugh forming.

“Didn’t feel the need? This isn’t bloody optional, Malfoy! This is forty percent of the quarterly grade, you dolt!” she exclaimed emphatically, plopping down on the couch with force enough to make him bounce beside her.

“I figured you were smart enough to do it,” he shrugged nonchalantly, playing his amusement off as his trademark smirk.

“I may be intelligent, but I’m not bloody Curie! I can’t finish your entire half of the essay in two days and edit it and make it seem like it was your work!”

“I guess we just get a fifty, then. It is what it is,” he commented coolly, shrugging and looking down to adjust his tie, an excuse to hide his smile.

“God, and I wanted to make something of my self after graduation! Now I’ll fail because I had a second rate DADA partner! I can’t believe you!” That was it. He burst out into a fit of laughter, his guffaws only intensifying when he saw the utterly bewildered look on her face.

“Do you find this funny, Malfoy?” she asked, her eyebrows knit together in frustration.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Granger. I was only messing with you.”

“So… you did do it then?” she asked hopefully.

“Uh, no,” he replied. She started to glower at him and opened her mouth when he interjected, “Kidding, kidding! Here. It’s really good, trust me.”

“Sure, Malfoy. Whatever you need to make yourself feel better.” She rolled her eyes, though less animosity remained between them. The banter was less hostile and more playful than normal.

He swished his wand in a nonverbal spell and a long piece of parchment went flying towards him. He put his hand out and caught it expertly, handing it to her.

When their fingers brushed, she sharply recoiled. It had felt like someone had pressed a live wire to her hand, but in the best possible way. It felt… pleasant. It was something she’d felt with Ron when they’d kissed, but intensified. He seemed to notice too, but none of them mentioned anything about it. How was she to help that he had an attractive stature? He was still a prat, even though he had the figure of a Greek God.

Draco had never really felt that kind of sensation and was bloody confused about it. He’d had his fair share of tumbles in the sheets, but it was only a faint cry to the buzz when she touched him. It was just hormones, he told himself. Granger was attractive. He was allowed to appreciate that without actually liking her. How was he to help that she was practically a warrior princess? She was still a goody-goody, no matter how “Diana of Themyscira” she seemed sometimes.(Hey, he enjoyed a good Muggle comic from time to time!)

She scanned over the paper and he could practically here the gears turning in her head. Her eyes(which seemed to change color from gold to chocolate to emerald, all resolving into a hazel) seemed to light up with satisfaction and astoundment as she read on.

“This is… really well researched,” she commented, her tone laced with surprise.

“You sound surprised,” he observed arrogantly, a trademark smirk passing over his face.

“Shut up,” she replied without missing a beat. “But seriously, you’re a wondrous writer, Malfoy. Almost better than I am.”

“Still won’t admit defeat, Granger?” he laughed, raising an eyebrow, challenging her to respond.

“Hell no, Malfoy. You would hang it over my head like Damocles’ sword,” she snorted, handing his piece back to him.

“Just call me Dionysus.” He grinned childishly, only he and Granger could make witty banter out of Greek myths.

“Whatever you say, dear.” She plastered on a fake sickly sweet smile and patted his shoulder robotically, enhancing the sarcasm in her tone that only showed itself around him. “Turn it in together on Friday?”

“Sure, though I wouldn’t be surprised if we both fail.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Alecto hates you with a passion and wishes she was me,” he explained nonchalantly as if he was telling her what he had for lunch.

“That’s not right,” she commented disapprovingly.

“What about this entire hell hole is?”

“Touche.” There was a comfortable silence between the two of them as they continued to work.

Without any warning, Hermioe blurted out, “Do you ever wish you could just escape? Just… all of this. Get to be a regular eighteen year old, get drunk, go out with friends, and have your biggest worry be a college app instead of being another pawn in a seemingly never ending war?”

He did. Every living moment. A month ago, he would’ve taunted Granger for saying it. He would’ve spat at her because she had no idea how horrible his life is and that she had no right to say anything like that to him with her perfect princess life with her two best boyfriends at her side. But now he knew. Perspective was a real bugger sometimes.

“All the time,” he responded automatically. “Every day.”

She seemed to be lost in thought for a while. “I can see how you would,” she finally said.

“Good,” he responded curtly. “Your eighteenth is in a couple days, isn’t it?”

“Three days,” she agreed sadly. Her most important birthday(in the Muggle world) without Harry and Ron. “On the bright side, it’s the same day I’m going shopping with Pansy.”

“That’s good. She thinks you’re amazing, you know. She really wants to be your friend, against my better judgement, of course.” She was surprised at his (somewhat) kind words and chuckled lightly.

She had opened her mouth to retort when something popped out of the fire and propelled itself at Hermione at top speed. Not being quite the athlete, the piece of paper missed her hand when she attempted to catch it in mid air. Draco caught it easily for her. It was a piece of parchment, folded up and tied with an orange ribbon. The fire hadn’t done a thing to it. It had no burn marks or soot, just a note on the outside saying, “To be opened immediately, in privacy or not.”

What was even stranger is that on the same paper, it said, “The contents of this letter are extremely private, do not share with anyone except intended reader, HG.”

“HG, that must be you,” he inferred, nodding to her.

HG with an orange ribbon? This was Order stuff, so why would they trust her to open a letter that could get her arrested in front of an(albeit reluctant) Death Eater?

Before she could stop him, he pulled the ribbon loose and let it fall to the floor. Oh, this was it. She was doomed, wasn’t she? She just had to hope that Malfoy had enough sympathy for her or enough hate for the Death Eaters to not reveal her.

She sucked in a breath and saw the short page of writing, but paused when she saw Draco’s furrowed blonde brow.

“ Are you bloody mad? There’s… nothing on this?” he stated, more like a question. Of course! Only she could see it!

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_Report to my office as soon as possible. Make sure you’re not followed. Mad Eye wants a word. He has thoughts that don’t please me, but I’d like you to attend anyways. The temporary password is ‘have hope for love.’_

_From,_

_M. McGonagall_

She swept up her stuff quickly and levitated it into her bag.

“I have to go, like now,” she announced hurriedly, straightening her robes when she got up. She slung the bag over her shoulder.

“Should I even ask?” he chuckled dryly.

“Of course not! I could tell you, but then I’d have to take you in or kill you,” she exclaimed, dead serious.

“Geez, you try to tell a bloody joke,” he grumbled, rolling his silver eyes.

“Try and do your part. I’ll finish mine tonight,” she said to him, already half way down the hallway. She cast a Disillusionment spell on herself so that no one would be able to see where she was going.

She uttered the password at the door quietly and it swung open for her, letting her in just as the last of the charm faded.

“Professor?” The room was silent and dark, except for the light shining from the broom closet.

She walked to the closet, her hand was poised on the knocker when she heard loud noises from inside.

“She’s a child, Mad Eye! You can’t expect her to-”

“I bloody well can,” he barked roughly. “She’s done dangerous things before. She can do this!”

“They’re just starting to develop a friendship! Let it happen naturally instead of giving her a deadline!” she cried, scolding him.

“And what if she fails because she didn’t know she was supposed to?” he responded sharply. Silence from her end. “You and I both know he’s an asset to their side. He has a lot of potential for us, both magic skill wise and intel wise. Who better to turn him than Hermi’ne? She’s a skilled magician and speaker and she’s got the… physical aspects to draw him in.”

“Are you insinuating that… she… seduce him, Mad Eye? I repeat, she is barely even of age! Eighteen is a baby for a high risk mission like that! She’d be right in the clutches of the Malfoys if they got wind of it!” You could practically hear the horror in McGonagall’s voice.

“No, not at all,” Mad Eye corrected in disgust. “It will be helpful, that’s all. All I want her to do is turn him over, no matter what. If not his father, his mother will follow along.”

“The boy wants to turn, he can’t because of You Know Who’s threats.”

“You know the Order has the resources to protect him and his mother from harm if they so wish. I doubt old Lucy’s going to come over to our side no matter what they do. So, whaddya think?”

“Why don’t you ask her about it?” McGonagall suggested, opening the door and almost knocking over Hermione.

“‘Evenin’,” he greeted gruffly.

She could only splutter, “Turn him? Who’s him?”

“S’about time you got a real mission instead of wasting away at Hogwarts like a useless grub,” Moody began. “And this is more than any first time recruit gets as a mission, but you’ve handled things at age 11, so you’ll be fine.”

“I… don’t understand?” she tapered off, her brow furrowing.

“That’s a first,” he laughed roughly.

“What he’s trying to say, Miss Granger,” McGonagall interjected, shooting him a dirty look. “Is that your designated mission is to…turn, or should I say, return Mr. Malfoy’s loyalties to us.”


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agreements and observations are made along with new acquaintances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took three weeks, I'm so sorry.

“What he’s trying to say, Miss Granger, is that your designated mission is to…turn, or should I say, return Mr. Malfoy’s loyalties to us.”

Hermione’s rosy face turned to a deathlike pallor. “I thought you were trying to keep students away from the war,” she gulped, her eyes narrowing and flitting side to side nervously. All this time, she had been waiting for someone to assign her a mission so that she wouldn’t feel useless compared to Harry and Ron. Now that she had one… well, she wasn’t so sure she wanted it so much anymore.

“You’re no ordinary student,” Moody countered, his glass blue eye swiveling and zeroing in on her. “And Minerva here told me that you two have been getting cozy, innit?”

Hermione’s mouth fell open at that and she opened her mouth to defend herself. “He is the Head Boy and my partner in Defense! I don’t know what you’re insinuating!”

“I’m not insinuating anything. This is your mission and I gave it to you because I thought you’d want to make something of yourself instead of being completely useless! Use some of that Gryffindor bravery! If I wanted, I could grab that boy by his greasy ferret hair and apparate him to a safe house right now, but we need to make sure his loyalties lie with us. Constant vigilance. Now, are you up to it or not?”

Hermione knew she had no choice. She wanted a job, she was being given one, albeit not what she expected. Why couldn’t it have been to incapacitate a Death Eater or something? That would’ve been easy!

She took a deep breath and managed to whisper, “Yes.”

_____________________

As she walked out of her dorm for dinner and then some time in the common room, she tried to push it out of sight and out of mind. She needed to act natural, but subtly inviting. She’d get nervous if she thought about it too much, so she’d play it cool and make it clear that she didn’t harbor any animosity towards him. It was a stable and safe first step.

Then again, she knew how boys were. Sometimes they were more driven by lust than brains, so she had chosen one of her more risque outfits, something still on the more modest side compared to some of her best friend’s or Pansy’s clothing, but classy. 

She felt confident and elegant today, holding her head up high, as as she walked through the halls in her some of her more stylish Muggle clothing to snag a bite of dinner and take it back to the common room to eat it in peace. The rules had changed with the administration slightly; Snape had decreed that robes were not necessary in the Great Hall, very clearly so that Death Eater pupils could show off their marks if desired. 

It was nothing too revealing, but a notch above her regular ‘jeans and t shirt’ ensemble.It made her look elegant and even… pretty by any standard. 

It was a deep olive green dress that looked radiant on her skin . It had somewhat fluffy sleeves, but it just puffed out a couple inches till her wrist where it had a lace up cuff. It was square neck and showed off just the top of her chest. 

It loosely hugged her waist, with small decorative buttons that added to a vintage look. It stopped a couple inches above her knees, a bit shorter than her uniform skirt. It outlined and played up whatever subtle curves she had. It wasn’t too formal or too casual. 

Her hair was(unlike usual) done into a simple braided updo to keep it out of her face. People would question her formality this evening and she wondered whether sweatpants would work just as well. She had to admit, she felt like a princess in this dress, but what would people say?

I have a mission, she reminded herself.

“What’s the occasion?” a dreamy voice said from behind her. Hermione swiveled around in surprise. 

“What?” 

“You’re more dressed up. What’s the occasion?” the blonde asked fearlessly, wearing an ice blue top under a light brown overall dress with gold buttons down the middle. For anyone else it would have been completely mismatched, but somehow, Luna made it work. 

“Dinner. There is no occasion,” Hermione replied casually, though her heart was beating in her chest. McGonagall had made it clear that it was a private mission and top secret. 

“A dress, new hair, and makeup for ordinary dinner? I think you want somebody to notice the dress. I heard you complain just last year about Lavendar wearing makeup to dinner and getting lipstick on the cutlery.”

“No, I just like to feel good in my own skin,” Hermione insisted with a tight lipped grimace. At this rate, Luna would figure it out in an instant. Would it be so bad to just tell her? Luna knew how to keep secrets well. 

No, she had a mission.

“I know that. You’re a staunch feminist and you believe in confidence in your style. You enjoy dressing up occasionally, but ou hate unnecessary frivolities.The only times you’ve ever willingly dressed up is when there’s a worthy occasion… or when you’ve wanted to impress Ron.” Luna was frighteningly accurate and that made a rush of fear shoot through Hermione’s veins. 

“Oh look, we’re here,” Hermione said cheerfully, plastering on a polite smile and scampering away from Luna as fast as she could. She entered the Great Hall, fiddling with a button on her dress that just wasn’t symmetrical. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her flame haired best friend wave her over. On any other day, she would’ve walked over and sat with them like always, but she needed to infiltrate Draco’s social circle, worm her way into being a big part of his life.

She set her eyes on Pansy Parkinson, the cat eyed brunette sitting alone at the (unofficial, though most people chose to stay with their house) Slytherin table. She was presumably waiting for her friends by the way she frequently glanced at the door. 

Hermione had a mission.

With a deep breath and a puff of her chest, Hermione confidently strode over to her table. She sucked in a breath(and a suspicious burning in her eyes) when she saw Ginny’s face flash with hurt and confusion at Hermione’s blatant ignorance of her invitation. The sixth year turned a shade of red and Hermione saw her swallow a lump in her throat before she turned and pretended to be deeply invested in whatever plant Neville was obsessing over enthusiastically. 

“Hey, Pansy,” she greeted a bit nervously, a genuine smile coming to her face when the Slytherin’s face lit up at the sight of her newly found friend. “I was wondering if I may sit with you for dinner? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

“Alright? I’m bloody jumping for joy. Those boys couldn’t be punctual if their life depended on it!” she sniffed, very reminiscent of a disapproving older sister. 

Hermione laughed despite herself, knowing exactly what Pansy meant. If her attempted future friendship with Malfoy was a front, her camaraderie with Pansy certainly wasn’t. 

“Harry and Ron can be thick sometimes, but you know how it is. You can’t live without them.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without them,” Pansy agreed, nodding her head. “But enough about those dolts. How’ve you been?”

Before Hermione could answer, she was interrupted by a high and ringing voice, reminiscent of jingle bells. It was a stark contrast to her smooth mezzo and the polar opposite to Pansy’s velvety alto. 

“Pans, I’m positively bored with the other fifthies. Can I join you and your friends?”

From seemingly nowhere, an enthusiastic young girl with luscious straight brown hair in a half up braid materialized next to Pansy. She had deep brown eyes, almost black, that seemed to radiate beauty and liveliness. She reminded Hermione of Ginny, a spirited and gorgeous fireball. 

“Hello, Pansy, how are you? I’m good, Astoria, how about you? Thank you so much for asking instead of inviting myself into the conversation,” Pansy dialogued with herself, shooting a smart look at the exuberant girl. 

“Whatever. Answer the question.”

“Of course you can sit with us, Tori. But why? Are Snotty and Fake over there not entertaining you?” She gestured to two fifth year Slytherins that were shooting Astoria daggers with their eyes. Astoria rolled her eyes and simply flashed them a certain finger of hers.

“The Gibbon twins have been delightful to me lately. It seems even my blood traitor filth can beat them in every class,” she smirked, flipping her hair and winking sarcastically at the two blonde twins, Nicoletta and Fiametta Gibbon. 

“You’re… Astoria Greengrass?” Hermione asked, her tone lilting at the end. The corner of her mouth quirked up. The Greengrasses had a reputation for being an icy and dignified family, quite unlike the sassy and talkative girl in front of her. “Daphne’s sister?”

Astoria frowned deeply at that, her nose scrunching in displeasure. “Well, I suppose so, though sister is overdoing it. Dear old Daphie and I haven’t had a civil conversation in two years.”

She glanced at the seventh year in disgust, her lip curling in a minacious sneer that her older sibling returned just as fiercely. 

“Two years?” Hermione said in disbelief. How could you live with a person and not have a good conversation with them for two years? It seemed near impossible!

“Sounds outrageous, I know, but the thing is I haven’t lived with her in two years either. Pans and I have an apartment we rent during the summers, this dingy kind of flat in London. I help out with a daycare in Muggle London during the weekends and holidays to keep us afloat.Aging potion really helps, my boss thinks I’m twenty two. He’s forty and still tries to make passes at me.” Astoria screwed up her face in disgust.

“I work at a clothing store in Muggle London part time. Barb thinks I’m twenty five, so she let’s me help out with designing sometimes. I love it,” Pansy chimed in. 

“And you’re… 15?” Hermione asked Astoria, checking to make sure. It sounded terrible, having to make it by your own as a teenager, no support system or family. 

“And then some. Sixteen in March, actually,” she corrected with a glorious smile. “How about you?”

“Eighteen in… three days, actually.” Hermione saddened just a little bit. It was her first birthday in six years without Harry and Ron by her side. 

“Happy birthday… who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” Astoria asked, putting her hand out. Pansy looked at her strangely, a mixture of amusement and bafflement.

“Tori, think. Gryffindor robes, bushy brown hair, a year older than all of us, smart as hell, ring a bell?” Pansy waved her hand in front of Astoria’s face sarcastically.

“Wait, she’s not...You’re not Hermione Granger?” she asked, her right eyebrow inching up her forehead. 

“Guilty as charged,” Hermione attempted to joke, her lame laugh turning into a pathetic smile. A slow and mischievous smile spread over the fifth year’s face.

“And you’re sitting… with us? Former elitists with shady histories as opposed to sunshine and rainbow family over there?” Astoria gestured to where Neville was talking with Ginny about some Herbology homework. 

“I suppose I am. Do you have a problem with that?” Hermione challenged, crossing her arms indignantly.

“Bloody hell, no! Welcome to the dysfunctional family of people with little to none parental guidance!” Astoria laughed brightly(though her tone was still laced with incredulity), wrapping her arms around Hermione briefly before starting to yammer on about ‘little Samirah from the daycare’ doing something ‘absolutely bloody ‘dorable.’

Where Hermione expected dissonance between her and the ‘blood traitors’ of their families, she only found a strange kind of belonging.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with the Slytherins followed by Draco learning about some Muggle baubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dramione is making progress!!! Draco is starting into the realm of exploration of (physical, if not emotional) curiosity about our girl.

“Where the hell is Blaise?” Draco grumbled from beside Theodore, eyes scanning the hall before him.

“He saw Granger head into the Great Hall without Lovegood and decided to stalk, I mean, talk to her in the library,” Theo smirked, rolling his eyes.

The two of them strode into the Great Hall and stopped abruptly in surprise, narrowing their eyes.

"Say, who's that sitting with Pans and Tori over there?" Draco asked. He could see her side profile from here, but he wasn't close enough to see any distinctive features. She had dark golden brown hair tied up into a simple braided bun, tendrils of wavy hair slipping out of it. She was sporting a casual olive green dress, on the shorter side, but nothing scandalous. She looked like no one he had seen before. Her side profile was hot, to be completely honest, and the way she seemed to carry herself was with a show of confidence.

“Reckon she’s a Ravenclaw? I could’ve sworn I would’ve remembered if she was in Slytherin and friends with Pansy,” Theo remarked, stepping closer.

No, Draco knew exactly who she was. On a second examination, he spotted all the miniscule things. The hair was a distinct shade of brown, and the bun was a bit too poofy compared to other girl’s. Her nose was a wide button nose that he would’ve found cute if it wasn’t Granger, her skin a creamy olive only marred by golden sun kissed freckles. Her lips were a little too wide and her teeth a smidgen too large.

Yet, she was perfect. If she was anyone else, if she wasn’t Granger, the golden girl and his supposed sworn enemy and the only thing keeping him from the top of the class and a key part of the Order, she would’ve been perfect, despite all the(albeit limited) physical imperfections and the multitude of flaws in her character.

“It’s… Granger.”

“Shut up, no way,” Theodore swatted him in amusement.

Draco rolled his eyes and drawled, “I’m dead serious, Nott.”

“You’re not Sirius, you’re Draco.” A childish grin spread across the dirty blonde’s lips and the corners of Draco’s lips quirked up. At the end of the day, he was seventeen. A little childishness with friends never hurt anybody.

“Can we go eat now? I’ll even put up with Granger to satiate my hunger,” Draco complained flatly, crossing his arms and walking over to the regular table.

When he got there, Theo right behind him, he noticed something strange. Instead of her usual look of quiet confidence, slight contempt, and glimmers of hope, she almost blushed. Her face darkened a shade and she looked away from him suddenly, willing herself to keep her composure.

_Pretend like this evening didn’t happen. This is all normal, you don’t have a mission, act normal._

With a deep breath, she greeted them civilly. “Why, hello, boys.”

Theo invited himself to sit down beside Pansy, kissing her on the lips shortly and making civil conversation. Draco, however, stood there awkwardly in front of her. Some twisted part of his mind that he wanted to throw away noted the twinkle like twin stars in Granger’s hazel eyes.

Unlike Hermione’s belief, the makeup and the dress wasn’t what made him turn his head towards her. It was her regal composure, her subtle grace, her beauty not in looks(though admittedly, she was beautiful), but in kindheartedness and morality. It was everything that his parents opposed and everything he wanted to be a part of.

“Well, do you need an invitation?” she huffed, looking at him expectantly.

“What?”

“You can sit down, you know. No one’s asking you to RSVP to dinner,” Hermione pointed out, gesturing to the two empty seats separating their table from some fourth year’s. Not wanting to hear whatever annoying chatter the fourth years were gabbing about, he sat next to her, mumbling something that was supposed to sound sarcastic but instead came out pretty pathetic.

As he reached across the table to grab a chicken leg, his shirt sleeve slid up, exposing the beginnings of a jagged red scar caused by nights of pain and frenzy turned to hurting.

“What’s that?” she asked, studying him closely. “You have a scar.”

“Ask Potter what that was about,” he lied, scowling to keep his image. He had a reputation to uphold!

She shook her head. “This one is too fresh to be from last year and the spell scars were on your chest.”

“And how would you know that?” he smirked suggestively. She scoffed, swatting him gently with a spoon.

“If you must know, Harry told me. And stop trying to change the subject!”

“Parchment cut, Granger. Father never puts a charm on the parchment. Like his way of getting revenge or something.” It was half true because Lucius never bothered with those charms, but the part he was excluding was that Draco always put safety measures on his envelopes before receiving them. There were only so many times you could end up in the hospital wing with cursed mail before you did something about it.

She looked at him in mild disbelief, but shrugged.

“So, how is my dearest future brother in law?” Astoria asked casually, picking at her chicken with a fork lazily.

“Don’t remind me,” he groaned, putting his head in his hands.

“You’re getting married this young?” Hermione asked in surprise. It gave her a rush of confusion how some part of her withered a little when Astoria had said that. It was probably purely because it would hinder her ability to carry out the mission as quick as possible.

“Not his decision. Daddy dearest is getting him married off to ickle Daphie,” a voice said, plopping into the seat beside Draco.

“Blaise, finally. Let’s talk about you instead,” Draco suggested, shooting Astoria a dirty look.

Hermione laughed jollily, her hazel eyes brightening naturally like twin pools of honey. “Shame, I was quite enjoying this topic.”

___________

As they were walking back, Draco commented, “I’ll be in the common room if you need me, Pansy. I have some studying to catch up on.”

“Ditto,” Hermione sighed, completely truthful. DADA was the worst class ever. “Carrow’s class is quite literally torturous.”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Draco quipped back, looking at her with falsely innocent eyes, a devious smirk playing on his face.

“Low blow, Malfoy. Too soon,” she said gravely, though the grin she was hiding was plain as day.

When Draco headed inside the boys’ dorm to fetch his books, Theo blurted out abruptly, “So, how long have you fancied Granger?”

Draco did a double take, his silver eyes almost popping out of his sockets in surprise.

“What the bloody hell are you on?” he asked Theodore in shock, touching his forehead and checking for fever to emphasize his point.

Theo swatted his hand away with a frown. “All these years and you still can’t tell me when you fancy a girl, Malfoy? Best mates, my arse.”

“Where would you get the idea that I fancy Granger?” He said her name with repulsion, yet Theo was not fooled.

“You practically ogled her all of dinner,” he pointed out, shrugging simply.

“Now you’ve really gone mad. Granger isn’t even that attractive with her bushy brown wavy hair and smart-arse hazel eyes and stupid little golden freckles on her blasted tan skin,” he spat, crossing his arms.

“I’m just going to pretend you didn’t just describe her perfectly and ask you why you were flirting with her then?”

“Flirting? I wasn’t flirting! We were bickering like we always do!”

Theo scoffed, suppressing a laugh.

“Yeah, bickering. That’s why you were grinning like devils at each other,” he explained sarcastically.

“Whatever, you’re loony, mate. I need to go study.”

“Yeah, with your new crush!” Theo called out as he was walking out of the doors.

“Shut up, Nott!”

Hermione was already there, staring intently at a textbook. She had changed out of her previous ensemble and was in casual nightclothes, a white tanktop covered by an old denim jacket to keep her warm from the fall chill. She was in worn and shabby gray sweatpants that sat high on her waist and she was wearing fuzzy cat patterned socks to keep her feet warm. Her long brown hair was piled in a loose bun at the top of her head. She was barely concerned at him seeing her so casually not put together. She wouldn’t spend the entirety of the year dressing up every night just to study!

She didn’t even notice him walk in until he sat down in another chair, taking out his quill and ink and starting on his DADA essay.

“Oh, hey,” she greeted casually, not even looking up. She took some type of stick out of her bag and clicked it once, writing on the parchment that was in front of her. It looked like a short and fat black wand with an end that tapered off to a dull point. It seemed to do the same thing as a quill, but there was no ink with her.

“What’s that?” he asked her, the curiosity getting the best of him.

“This? It’s just a pen,” she answered, her eyes quizzical. “I use it sometimes when I don’t feel like using a quill. Why, did you need one?”

“A pen? What’s it for?”

“You don’t know… what a pen is?” she questioned, her eyebrows shooting up. The corners of her mouth quirked up in amusement.

“No, should I?”

“It’s something Muggles invented. It has ink like a quill, but it’s easier to carry around and you don’t have to refill it. It doesn’t break like a quill, nor does it spill like ink,” she explained, demonstrating by writing her full name at the top of her paper. She passed it to him to examine.

“So… you just.... Click it?” he asked incredulously, holding it in his palm as if it might explode any second. Gingerly, he picked it up and clicked the pen, watching as the tip retracted. He pressed the end again and watched as the tip came back out. A look of pleasant surprise crossed his face, a childlike fascination with the object.

“That’s about it, yes.”

“You don’t have to refill it or worry about the nib breaking often? That’s… bloody brilliant.”

“Nope, one of the few perks of knowing Muggle technology,” Hermione answered honestly, finding his curiosity over such a usually unassuming object endearing. He handed it back to her, that strange electric feeling buzzing through him as their fingers grazed.

“I didn’t know Muggles were so… advanced.”

“This is the simplest of things we’ve done. Have you ever used a phone?”

He frowned, shaking his head side-to-side. “Can’t say I have. What is it?”

“Well, you can dial someone’s number- that’s the identifier for their phone- and if they choose to answer you, you can talk to each other from a long distance away. It’s as if they were right there, kind of like floo communication, but quicker.”

“You Muggles really did figure things out for yourself, didn’t you?” he asked her with questioning eyes. There was that look again. That look when he started to rethink everything that had been instilled in him as a child. When he started to rethink his future.

Hermione’s goal was to get him to do that forever. At this point, she wasn’t speaking out of obligation to her duty. No, the words were coming freely out of her mouth. He always seemed to erase her inhibitions, for better or for worse.

She smiled genuinely at him. “Our technology may not be magic, but it’s as close as we can get and it’s eons more advanced.”

“May I borrow this… pen?” he asked her with hopeful courtesy.

“You may,” she granted, handing it back to him with an eager smile. He was finally starting to get it!

They went back to working on their assignments when he broke the silence yet again. She looked up at him with questioning eyes.

“You know, Granger, for a muggle-born… you’re not half bad.”


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two conversations with two different tones with two different people.

“You know, Granger, for a Muggle-born… you’re not half bad.”

“Oh?” she said, amusement lacing her tone. One of her eyebrows was quirked up as she looked up from her work, a quiet laugh falling from her lips. “High praise, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Don’t get too high and mighty about it,” he huffed, rolling his silver eyes. “You’re just not as insufferable as one might first observe.”

“Mhm,” she hummed in falsified and clearly sarcastic introspection. “And what ever led you to this conclusion?”

“Despite your… borderline obsessive pushiness with my war affiliation,” he began with a careless shrug. “When you want to be, you can be… pleasant company. Even friendly, if I may go so far as to say.”

“You may,” granted Hermione with a tentative smile. Times like these was when she could convince herself that she didn’t need some mission putting pressure on her to try and grow the seed of doubt in his head, that it could come naturally because of the budding allyship between the two. In another life, they could’ve been friends. A life where his family didn’t stand for everything she despised. “And despite your borderline obsessive pushiness with staying on the wrong side of the war, you can also be pleasant company.”

“That’s an insult. You know very well I try to be as bitter as possible.”

“Shame, you might have to get better at it,” she remarked with a sniff, trying her best to put on a haughty air and stealing a look at his subtly smiling face out of the corner of her eye.

For many minutes, there was a comfortable silence as the two did their schoolwork without another word, Draco’s fascination with the strange pen only growing. 

“What would you want to be if the war didn’t exist? If there were no sides to pick and everything was peaceful, what would you do when you graduated?” Draco asked Hermione out of the blue, a wistful expression on his chiseled features. He wished he could have that kind of choice instead of the preordained life he had set out for him.

Hermione did a double take. It was usually her initiating conversation! 

“Well, I suppose I’d take up a job as professor here if I could. Maybe as Transfiguration teacher or Charms. I’ve always been interested in magical creature welfare, so I’d probably join that department of the Ministry in a couple years. When I’m older, perhaps even run for Minister and make some real change. How-How about you?”

“A Healer,” he blurted out without a thought. “For the rest of my life, I’m going to have to spend it hurting other people. For once… it’d be nice to do the opposite.”

Her features softened and her hand almost outstretched to touch his from across the table, wanting to trace across the Mark’s sickening lines on his strong and scarred forearm, but she decided against it. 

“You don’t have to do it, you know,” she told him gently, her hazel eyes overflowing like twin cups of honey. 

“What?”

“You don’t have to do it. Hurt people, I mean. You can do all you want and more. I told you, there are Order safehouses that can-”

“Stop it,” he spat bitterly, turning his head away so he wasn’t looking at her pleading face. He had seen that face many times in the last seventeen days. “Stop it right now. You know I want to, and you also know bloody well why I can’t-”

“Hear me out! If this is about your parents, we can protect them!” she shouted over him, desperation in her voice.

“They don’t want to be sodding protected! My father would lick the Dark Lord’s bloody knickers if he was ordered to! If I leave, he’ll never forgive me and more so, he’ll pay the price. Mother will pay the price she never wanted to pay while I walk away scot-fricking-free. I know she doesn’t agree with it all. She did at one point, but she regrets it now, but she wouldn’t confront my father, let alone leave him, for all the Galleons in the world. Sodding patriarchal bullshit,” he spat bitterly, putting down the parchment he was writing on with a “thwack” on the table.

“Dra- Malfoy, I-”

“No, listen to me. Do you think I have it in me to live with the fact that my parents died because of me? I know that might make a vile and selfish person, but I don’t care! They’re my parents, Granger! I can’t just… forsake them like that! Forsake my mother like that after all the care she’s given me and my father for literally suing anyone who upset me, however cold and cruel he may be. Would you do it? Would you have the strength to murder your parents in cold blood?” he asked her, his voice cracking at the end. He sounded so broken, so lost and frightened like a child abandoned in the middle of the city with no place to turn to. 

Hermione sighed helplessly, blinking away the blasted residue of emotion in her eyes. Of all the people, she was starting to see Malfoy’s point of view. A month ago, she would have scoffed at the very idea of it all!

“Fine, I-I’ll drop it,” she acquiesced, raising her hands in surrender. “For now,” she added quickly. “I’m going to bed.”

He stood up to give her the pen back, but she waved him off with a dismissive flick of her hand. 

“Keep it. I have plenty.”

________________

As soon as Hermione closed the door behind her, a blur of red came hurtling towards her and pulled across the room, plopping down on her bed.

“Oh God, Ginny, you scared the life out of me,” Hermione half-laughed, holding a hand to her chest in surprise.

“Well, that would be downright horrible because my best friend’s eighteenth is in two days!” Ginny squealed, allowing joy to take over for once in the horrid year they’d been having. No Ron, no Harry, no safety, and lots of bloodshed all over the world, but it was the little things that kept them cheerful. They grasped those little things as tight as they could. 

Hermione blushed modestly and waved her hand dismissively. “I had hoped you’d forgotten about that.”

“Oh please,” Ginny scoffed, punching her on the shoulder lightly. “We’ve been friends for what… 7 years now? Best girl friends since I was in third year, of course. I’m not just going to forget your birthday. I know you and Parkinson are romping about for the first half, but I have plans for Saturday in the Room of Requirement.” She grinned devilishly, waggling her eyebrows.

“Oh no,” groaned Hermione, playfully sighing dismally. 

“Stop your festering, ‘Mione,” Ginny snapped back with a fantastic roll of her eyes. “Everyone’s invited except for Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and everyone else who has the Dark Mark. Since Nott, Zabini, and Parkinson are on the good side, they’re invited too, as much as it pains me to say. Sound good with you?”

“Do you think we could add Malfoy to the guest list?” she blurted out without a thought, regretting it almost immediately.

Ginny gave her a look like she wasn’t quite human. “Malfoy? He’s a bloody elitist!” It occurred to her that Ginny didn’t know the specifics of her mission(or any of it at all). 

“He’s… not so bad,” she shrugged, telling the truth. He was decent enough to talk to most of the time, and she did know the real reason he couldn’t stop being in the Death Eaters. It was understandable, but she wouldn’t condone it.

“What the bloody hell are you on, Hermione? Is it crack? Are you on crack? You’re talking about Malfoy here! The person who’s tormented you and my boyfriend for years!” 

“I know, but… sometimes, underneath all the snark and sarcasm…” She frowned hesitantly, her hazel eyes looking downwards.

“Let me guess, he has a heart of gold?” Ginny drawled, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “Listen to yourself, Hermione! You sound like a romance book character!”

“Please, Gin, I know I sound positively batty-”

“Yes, you do.”

“But you… you don’t understand. I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to. Just… trust me when I say that he’s fine by me. I’m a smart girl, I can make the right decision.” She stared at Ginny with pleading eyes for a moment.

“Fine,” Ginny sighed, huffing loudly. “I don’t know what you’re on about, but I somewhat trust you, so I guess I’ll send an invite to him too.”

She stewed in her anger for a moment, scowling fiercely. Hermione sighed, putting her head in her hands. 

“Are you cross with me? I didn’t mean to upset you, Ginny. You know how much I trust your judgement in other circumstances. Just on this one… you have to have some faith that I know what I’m doing,” she said earnestly, taking Ginny’s hand and squeezing it once.

Ginny relented, looking up at her best friend through a curtain of bright red locks. “Of course I have faith in you. You’re the smartest person I know. I didn’t mean to come off as bossy or pushy; I’m just worried for your safety. You’re one of the key parts of the Order, but more so, I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt. I don’t say it nearly as often as I should, but you have no idea how much I love you.”

Hermione softened and she smiled caringly at the younger girl. “I love you too, Gin. You’ve been extraordinarily graceful about all this and I rely on your friendship more than you’ll ever know.”

With a warm hug, the two women set about a new topic of conversation. In all the darkness of carnage and confrontations, they knew that they’d always have each other.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione talks with Draco about mundane things, goes out with a friend that she's quickly growing closer with, and makes a promise to a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dose of dramione with a hefty dose of my brotp, Hermione and Pansy!!! Lots of this friendship and lots more dramione in the future!

A dose of dramione with a hefty dose of my brotp, Hermione and Pansy!!! Lots of this friendship and lots more dramione in the future!

2 days later…

Hermione was just about to leave for breakfast and meet Pansy there to go to Hogsmeade. It was her eighteenth birthday, finally! Today, she was focused on letting loose and forgetting about life’s stresses for just a single day.

Just as she all but flounced out of the dorm and into the common room, someone marched in front of her and waved a piece of parchment in front of her face.

“There’s been a mistake,” he proclaimed, shoving the parchment into her hands. He was cautious around her after their little screaming match from the last couple days. “I think you meant to send this to someone else.”

She took a look and snickered softly at the contents. The inscription on the top was an invitation in Ginny’s messy cursive.

_Greetings,_

_You are invited to the informal eighteenth birthday gathering of Hermione Granger. It is in the Room of Requirement. It starts at 7:00 tonight. Free food and drinks will be provided. Gifts are not required, but always welcomed. Organized by Ms. Ginny Weasley. If you tell the teachers, I will be obligated to hex you into the next century._

_Thanks,_

_Hermione and friends_

“What makes you think that?” Hermione inquired with a subtle smile, folding it back up and placing it in his hands again. He looked like he didn’t quite know what to do with it.

“You’re not going to want to have me around at your gathering of you and your perfect little friends, are you?” he taunted blackly, stuffing the parchment in his shirt pocket hurriedly. “We’re not friends; you yourself said it.”

“You’re right. We’re not, but you’re not special, Malfoy. Everyone I know and do not particularly despise got invited. Not my style, but Ginny likes throwing people parties and...who am I to deny her the one joy she finds in all this?” Hermione shrugged with a melancholy smile, looking down with eyes that seemed to shift color in the light’s angle. _Chocolate, then amber, then an almost greenish golden brown..._

He shook himself out of the trance and nodded, starting to walk alongside her to breakfast. He took her seemingly friendly attitude as a sign that she had forgotten about their argument.

“Pansy is like that too, but with some other things. One time in fourth year, I mentioned I needed dress robes for the Yule Ball, and two days later, she threw a brand new design at me, begging me to take it to the tailor’s to be made,” he chuckled, reminiscing over his almost sister like figure. She had always been a creative soul at heart. Not at all like the woman next to him, always taking the analytical approach, thinking about the most logical way to tackle a problem.

“Was what she was wearing original too?” said Hermione, her curiosity getting the best of her. She thought back to fourth year, remembering the flash she had gotten of Pansy’s ruffled baby pink dress. It had been formfitting until her waist, with layers of flared out fabric and tulle.

“I think so. She only knew how to sew blankets and such at that point, but she could design a perfectly proportioned dress in hours if you asked her to. Now, I shudder to think of the new era that woman’s going usher in for fashion. She could make you an entire dress in a day or two if it wasn’t for school. Mother would never let me wear anything casual ever again.” He visibly shuddered in jest, earning a short and sweet giggle from Hermione.

“You never wear anything but dress shirts anyways,” she teased, her hazel eyes mirthful and dark brown hair slipping out of the loose braid it had been confined in, caressing her face. It was almost hopeless for such a bushy mass of hair to be restrained all the time. His fingers twitched with the urge to tuck it back behind her ear. Perhaps it was some compulsive impulse in him. He was sated when she herself did the job.

“I wear those Muggle pants to sleep sometimes,” he refuted indignantly, frowning in mock anger. “The sweaty ones or some shit like that.”

“Sweatpants?” She raised an eyebrow in shock, mouth falling open with a disbelieving laugh. “Draco bloody Malfoy wears sweatpants? Who ever would have known?”

“Don’t talk too loud; Father would murder me if he knew. It only started as a way to distance myself from him last year. I thought that if I could be more friendly to Muggle things, I could be more friendly to mudb- muggleborns.”

“And did it work?” Hermione asked softly, taking in the subtle vulnerability on his usually pointy and cocky face.

“I’m standing here talking to you, so,” he considered for a minute, pausing just outside the Great Hall where they were supposed to be. “I’ll say it did,” he completed, offering her a small smile.

She returned it, her finger fluttering in a wave goodbye. “That’s...that’s good.”

“Good.” He paused for a moment before turning back to meet her eye. “Uh, happy birthday.”

_____________________

After breakfast, Pansy immediately bounded over to Hermione, her eyes shining with joy and lips twisted into a rare grin.

“Happy birthday,” she all but sang, giving Hermione an unexpected hug, warm and comforting.

“Hello,” Hermione chuckled in surprise, embracing her in kind. “I did not expect that.”

“Mmm, too bad,” she hummed, stepping back and giving Hermione the onceover. “I’m buying you clothes as a birthday present.”

“You really don’t need to do that,” Hermione refused, shaking her head. Pansy was already in the hole for money after emancipating from her parents.

“No, I insist! Plus, half the shop’s I go to still think I’m a legal Parkinson. It all goes on my father’s tab, he doesn’t even notice, and that brings me immense pleasure.” She grinned wickedly, and the ambition and cunning that had gotten her into Slytherin was clear as day.

“Well, if it truly adds more to your father’s expenses…” Hermione considered, pausing a moment. After calculating all the risks(there were none), she nodded decisively and decided, “Let’s do it.”

“It’s an honor to call you my friend, Hermione,” Pansy proclaimed, roping their arms together and marching out of the Great Hall with fanfare. Around them, people started to gossip, talking in hushed whispers about the recent friendship between the two of rival houses. To the Gryffindors, it seemed like different worlds colliding for a brave Gryffindor to be friendly with a conniving Slytherin. To the other side, it seemed a great betrayal for Pansy to have turned with ‘the wrong side’ of the war.

The two girls ignored the harsh words thrown around(they were used to it) and exited the castle in casual shorts and t-shirts. September was a pleasant month for them.

As soon as they had exited school grounds, Pansy grabbed her hand and side-along apparated to a small building at the very edge of Hogsmeade, a shack no bigger than Hagrid’s hut. It was built with wood, almost falling apart. The windows were dusty and fogged over.

“This one, sadly, my father doesn’t lose money from, but I don’t either.”

“That’s all well and good, but…here?” Hermione quizzed, her brows furrowing in confusion. It seemed more like a haunted cabin than a shop that trendy and fashion-smart Pansy would get clothing from.

“It may not look like much, but that’s the intention. She called it, “A metaphor to show that the most drab of things can be something beautiful on the inside.” It’s better to just show you,” Pansy said to her with a smile, taking her wrist and dragging her through the small shabby wood door.

There wasn’t a cackling witch hunched over a cauldron like Hermione would have expected. As soon as she stepped in, the shape shifted into a huge store with sleek glass cases of clothing and shoes, polished mannequins modeling beautiful clothes every so often. The floor wasn’t dirty, it was shining hardwood with spiral designs.

A bell rang as they came in, and Pansy called out, “Lavanya, you there? It’s Pansy!”

“Pansy! Oh, what a lovely surprise!” A woman called from the far end of the store. There was the shuffling of feet, and a lady, probably mid 30s or so, appeared from behind the shelves. She was tall and statuesque with Indian features. Her heritage revealed itself in the twinge of her accent. Unlike Pansy’s short and stylish layers, she had long jet black hair that flowed down her back, pinned back with several bobby pins. Her eyes were a deep chocolate, so warm and deep that you could sink into them by looking for too long. Her nose had a small gold ring through it.

She ran up to wrap her arms around the shorter girl, squeezing her tightly. She pulled back and held Pansy at arm’s length, scanning her over. “It has been too long, gudiya. How have you been?”

[Gudiya means ‘doll’ in Hindi. It is used as a term of endearment.]

“Not too bad, considering the circumstances,” Pansy shrugged, stepping back with a smile to introduce Hermione. “This is my friend, H-”

“Hermione Granger! Oh, I’ve heard so much about you!” The woman, whose name seemed to be Lavanya, squealed joyfully. As if they were old friends, she pulled Hermione in for a short embrace.

“I’m Lavanya Kumar. You can call me Lav. It’s a pleasure to meet any of Pansy’s friends. And it’s good you brought her in, Pans. I’ve just dreamed up the most fantastical of designs for her body type.”

“Oh no, we’re here for Pansy’s clothes,” Hermione objected, shaking her head with a sheepish smile.

“Why not both? Pansy is like my own kin, after all. I’ve known her since she was just a little girl! She was the cutest child. Bright eyes and the cutest brown bowl cut and an innocent smile! She doesn’t waste a knut here, especially not now in these times, and a friend of hers is a friend of mine!”

Lav squeezed Pansy’s cheek like she was a toddler. Pansy brushed her hand aside, blushing fiercely. From the small smile on her face, Hermione had a feeling that Pansy did not mind the motherly affection that radiated through Lav.

“C’mon, Hermione. It’s your birthday! Just this once,” Pansy coaxed with an enchanting smile. Hermione looked between the two and sighed dramatically.

“Fine,” she exhaled, offering them a small smile. “But not too much though.”

Pansy and Lav seemed to ignore this and dragged her into a back room. Lav flicked her wand from her jacket pocket and a flurry of measuring tapes flew at both of them, magically recording her size.

“Whoa,” Hermione stumbled at the assault, yet Pansy laughed and continued chatting like it was an everyday occurrence.

“Well, I already know what predictable Pansy likes,” Lav said with a teasing smile. She zeroed in on Hermione, narrowing her eyes and mumbling to herself, “But what about you, Miss Granger? You have an exquisite shape for fall clothes, cardigans, sweaters, and such…”

“I-” She was cut off by a long golden brown finger to her lips.

“Since you seem to be more of a casual style, perhaps a white tank paired with a black cardigan...Black jeggings, maybe? A gray scarf around your neck would make you look positively radiant. For the finishing touch… tan ankle length boots!” she announced triumphantly. “This will be just a few of the things I send you home with. I’m just getting a feel of your style.”

“No, it’s really too much,” she refuted, shaking her head with a kind smile. “You’re very kind, but I don’t feel alright taking all of this from you with nothing to pay back.”

Lav contemplated it for a few seconds. “There is something you can do for me,” she said softly, her eyes tender. She looked over at Pansy who was scanning through the racks while humming something softly.

“Pansy won’t admit it, but… she misses having a family. I try to be as welcoming as I can, but she can’t see me every day. She has Theodore and the other boys, but they can only relate to her on one level. She needs something else. She’s been exuberant since you’ve talked to her, Hermione Granger. Promise me… promise me you’ll keep her this way. You’re the closest girl friend she has, and that’s saying something, considering you’ve known her all of three weeks. My little gudiya doesn’t like to be dependent, but she needs a friend like you. Can you do that for me?”

Hermione truly meant it when she said without hesitation, “Of course.”


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione goes to the Three Broomsticks with Pansy and encounters two familiar faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For something that took so long, this is awfully short, guys. Sorry! I'm just unmotivated in regard to dramione these days.

“I want a Butterbeer,” Pansy declared as they passed the Three Broomsticks. They had shopping bags in hand and had definitely gotten closer over the course of the trip. Quickly, Pansy was proving to be a true friend. She grabbed Hermione’s hand and led her in through the doors. “How about you?”

“That sounds really good right about now,” Hermione admitted, following Pansy in with a giggle. “With a twist of ginger.”

Pansy made a face, and her nose crinkled. “I still don’t know how you like that shit. It completely ruins the taste!”

“It adds flavor,” Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes at the girl’s dramatized antics. 

“Oh please, it adds bitterness to something meant to be unapologetically sweet,” she shot back, sliding into a seat at the front of the shop. Hermione sidled in across from her.

“Yes, like you keeping company with me,” said Hermione coolly. She looked dead serious except for the stifled half-smile forming on her lips. 

“Oh! I’m offended,” gasped Pansy, swatting Hermione on the arm lightly. “We both know I’m the kind one in this.” 

“Says the Slytherin.” Hermione smirked, pretending to absentmindedly finger her crimson shirt lightly.

“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?” Pansy exclaimed in an accusatory tone, clutching the collar of her black lace trimmed shirt with feigned offense. 

“Just what you think it does,” Hermione answered with the same even, malicious, and vaguely mirthful tone. 

“And here I thought we were friends,” sighed Pansy, trying and desperately failing to grimace. She instead beamed like she was the dazzling morning sun. 

“Now, what’s got her smiling like that?” a smooth voice said from behind them. It took a moment for Hermione to register who it was, but Pansy’s green eyes seemed to dance even more at the sound. The tall seventeen year old sidled up to the medium sized brunette and slid into the seat beside her. 

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good,” he teased, taking her petite hand and squeezing it gently. “I know her; she has a terrible sense of humor.”

“Well, screw you too, Theodore Nott,” Pansy grumbled with a fantastic roll of her eyes. She didn’t push his hand away, however.

“Darling, you already do,” he responded, puckering his lips comically and leaning in. She instead pushed him away by his chest, scoffing and half-giggling. 

“I did not need to know that,” Hermione laughed. They proceeded to order Butterbeers around the table. 

How long had it been since she’d felt that way about someone? The constant and easy love that could make her eyes light up each time that person walked in? The effect with Ron had been potent all through fourth, fifth, and half of sixth year. At Bill and Fleur’s wedding, she had waited and waited for that magical moment when she’d see him for the first time since they had decided to be together, and everything would snap into place. 

It was what all the books described, but she hadn’t yet had that moment. Fate had never whispered to her that Ron was the one and her truest soulmate, but it was almost expected of her to feel that way about at least one of her two dearest friends. According to fiction and society, it was almost impossible for a woman to spend so much time around two boys, even holding a torch for one for three years, and not ending up head-over-heels in love.

It was just then that someone cleared their throat awkwardly. Pansy and Hermione turned in surprise and saw another platinum blonde haired boy with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled down even in the pleasant warm weather. His hands were stuffed in his pocket. 

“I think Theo forgot I existed as soon as he saw Pans,” he jibed, glaring at his friend. “I’m sorry for intruding on your outing. My presence is probably uh, unwanted. All the same, I don’t think Granger wants to be a third wheel and privy to your uh...revolting displays.” 

He gestured to Hermione and then the happy couple. Theodore had taken to wrapping an arm around Pansy’s shoulders, and they both pouted at the insult.

“Well, you’d be right about that at least,” she agreed, scooching over to accommodate him. Surprisingly, his presence was not an unwelcome one. Was it possible that her quest for his conversion from Death Eater to vigilante was less a chore now and more… tolerable? 

His eyebrows raised in surprise at her allowance of him to join them. If you had told him a month ago that Hermione Granger would invite him to sit with her, he would’ve Floo-ed St. Mungo’s. 

He plopped himself down next to her. The booth was small and homely, so the four of them sat in close contact. Pansy and Theodore seemed to be taking advantage of it and playing a game of footsies underneath the table, but Draco and Hermione who were very much not in a long term relationship felt odd. They were leg to leg, thighs pressing against each other. He could feel her tense as her bare lower thigh brushed against his clothed one. 

God bless whoever invented shorts so that Hermione Granger could look like the most bad-ass, powerful runway model in them, was his first thought. His second thought was, Whoever made someone so goody goody with a so-so personality so attractive deserves to go to hell. His last was, Why the bloody hell do I think she’s attractive?

He saw Theodore wink at him when it seemed Granger wasn’t looking, and he made a motion of slicing. 

“You’re dead,” he mouthed, clenching his fists. Theo didn’t respond, but only leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of his girlfriend’s head.

“What was that for?” Pansy inquired with a high chuckle.

“Just reveling in the fact that I’m not painfully single and in denial,” he remarked. His eyes wandered over Draco purposefully.

Hermione looked blissfully clueless about the double meaning. Of course she was. If she won, she and Weasley would probably settle down and have a dozen or so children. 

“You’ll happen to recall that I’m engaged,” he snorted listlessly, pumping his fist in the air half-heartedly.

“That’s terrible,” Hermione murmured quietly. All eyes turned on her, and she lifted her gaze from her drink. “I just mean that… forcing you to join a cause is one thing, but… complete control over every aspect of your life? Forcing you to love someone? There has to be a better way.”

“I wish there was,” he replied, his eyes flitting downwards to the hand rested on her lap. If she moved it a couple inches to the right, it would brush his knee. 

“Me too.” Her eyes lifted to meet his, stirring hazel clashing with sparkling silver. “I think that sacrifice would be necessary, but… there’s always hope. Have faith.”

There was something unspoken in her tone, and everyone at the table felt it. It was an offer, yet another extension of assistance from her. 

A little more coaxing(or rather staring into her shimmering eyes that expressed so many emotions all at once) and he just might’ve taken it, but the brush of her hand against his knee, just what he was secretly hoping for those few minutes, promptly snapped him out of his trance.

He made a face of shock that he had even considered it, recoiling sharply and almost leaping out of the booth.

“I have to go,” he muttered, stuffing his hands back into his pocket and running away. 

But just before he could exit, his sleeves rode up as he shoved his hands into the pockets, and Hermione gasped quietly when she saw three jagged lines of red, relatively fresh jagged lines of red making their way up his arm. They were almost like a sick sort of pattern.

No, those were no paper cuts.

And without a word of warning, some damned instinct inside of her activated, and she sprinted after him.


	22. Chapter Twenty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco have a heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this chapter :)
> 
> I know the timeline is moving fast considering its only been 3 weeks, but I figured that since they have similar classes and they live in an enclosed space together, it's easy to bond that quickly when you see each other so often.

“Malfoy!” Hermione called out, sprinting after him. She pushed a flying strand of hair out of her face gracelessly. “Malfoy, wait!”

“Bugger off, Granger,” he spat, sprinting through Hogsmeade’s streets at top speed. He dodged McGonagall and almost barrelled into a struggling elderly woman, stopping only to ask whether she was okay before taking off again.

“Just stop for a bloody minute, will you?” she responded, fumbling for her wand. She cursed under her breath as she finally pulled it out from her pocket. Wordlessly, she cast a body-binding curse in his direction, but he dodged it. She fired off three more before one grazed his leg, and he was bound, hitting the cold cobblestone with a thud.

Shit. He felt it before he saw it, what he’d been hyper-aware of ever since he’d restarted the habit that was starting to become a deadly lifeline. A fresh scar on his forearm had reopened and hot crimson trickled down his sleeve. He gritted his teeth at the feeling, not even being able to tend to it himself because of the bloody curse. She caught up to the struggling mass that was his body, reversing the curse before extending an arm to help him up.

He scowled at her like most days, but this time, he accepted her help, using his uninjured left arm to grasp her hand and pick himself up. “You are really sodding irritating, you know that?”

“I pride myself on it,” she retorted snippily, dropping his hand the moment he had steadied himself. Her eyes landed on the newly reopened wound, and they softened, picking his right arm up to examine it. She looked up at him apologetically, and their eyes met for just a moment.

His bloodied arm seemed like only a hindrance in that moment. In only a second, he could see every ounce of concern his father had never shown him in just more than seventeen years reflected in those eyes.

Eyes that usually danced like flowers in a summer wind when she laughed at those one-off comments he’d make, wilted in those moments where he could see how she was trying to pull him from a life he would always regret, and he only resisted her, dark and clouded when Carrow tried to cross her one too many times, and now… like an ethereal and fleeting spirit’s warm caress, rolling up his blood soaked sleeve and healing it with just one gentle touch.

And then he remembered he was not some brave soldier, and she was certainly not a heavenly spirit. He forced himself to turn his gaze away from her, and he focused his vision on the floor. Huh, she had gotten new shoes.

She muttered, “Episkey!”, and it closed itself up, a sharp tugging sensation pulling his skin together. She proceeded to drop his arm by his side gently. “Please… don’t treat it like some sort of joke. Too many people in this world trivialize it, and I would rather not be one of those inconsiderate old biddies.”

“I apologize that my issues are inconvenient for you, Madame Granger. Next time, I’ll keep it to myself.” He rolled his eyes with a scoff, crossing his arms.

“That’s not what I meant,” she denied. Her words were sharp, but her tone and facial expression were quite the opposite. Was that… compassion? Was she seriously being kind to him? Three weeks of being in the same classes in enclosed quarters was making both of them loony. If they kept going on this way, he’d daresay they’d be friends in a week or two! Moreover, why was the thought of it bordering on pleasant?

“And what did you mean?”

“I meant that you and I and whoever else you want to take along are going to talk about what I just saw,” she said in her usual straight-forward and commanding manner. She frowned, and she seemed to realize that she sounded like she was ordering Harry and Ron around rather than talking to an(admittedly close) acquaintance about something sensitive. “Sorry, that sounded a lot like some kind of threat. That is… if you’re comfortable with it,” she added sheepishly.

A lips quirked slightly, revealing the beginnings of an amused smile. “Can never let go of that know-it-all nature of yours, can you?”

“One of my many finer points,” she responded simply, looking up at him with a smirk almost devious enough to rival his. “Now, I-I know you and I are far from inviting each other over for tea and gossip, but I’m only suggesting it because where I come from in the Muggle world, mental health is quite a hot topic right about now. I think I’m a bit more knowledgeable than some of your closer companions, but if you’re not secure around me, just… promise me you’ll talk it out with Blaise or Theo or someone? Please?”

“Muggles have a way to… cure me?” His brows furrowed in confusion. This subject was almost taboo in the Wizarding World. After all, wizards-especially pure-blooded ones like him- had everything that Muggles didn’t. Their poverty rates were almost half of what Muggles had, their facilities were superb, and they didn’t have unnecessary travel and living expenses. Someone so privileged with some kind of mental disorder was only seen as loony and stigmatized. That’s why he hid it. There was an intolerable amount of… shame.

“Please, don’t think of it like that. There’s nothing wrong with your personality or the way you are fundamentally. Maybe your greasy hair, but nothing about you. It’s scientific. You’re still… Malfoy. But hurting yourself… you don’t deserve that. No one does. So just… please. Talk to me if you need to. I can order in some books on human psychology, or we can find a therapist. Whatever you need. If you just need… a friend, I’m here. I’ll be here any way I can,” she promised, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

The words flowed out of her mouth naturally. Her sudden friendliness wasn’t the result of her godforsaken Order sanctioned mission, but… her own heart. She found herself showing real care for the ferret. He had morphed from a representative entity of evil that she, Harry, and Ron had unwittingly assumed to a real human, a lost soul like her with feelings and struggles of his own(and tough ones, at that).

He looked at the spot she had touched with vague amazement. Just like that, all her animosity was gone for now. How was it that she could forgive someone like him for all his crimes against humanity as soon as she’d gotten to know him a little and seen his struggle? How was it that she was able to speak so eloquently and kindly to someone so callous?

Hermione Granger, force of nature, bad-ass hero, intelligent witch, insufferable know-it-all, goody-goody, mudblood, these were all things that the papers and society spread about her, from the most exalting to the ones who thought her most undesirable.

But this side he was seeing, no one mentioned that. Everyone thought of life in terms of war, in terms of who won out in the end.

He had never seen Hermione Granger, a bad-ass, intelligent, muggle-born, rule following force of nature who could care more passionately than anyone he’d ever seen.

“Do you mind going to the library and doing some research with me tomorrow during lunch? If I… try and understand the reasons behind what I’m doing… it’ll help. I know it will. Also, is it possible to write to this… therapist you’re speaking about?” he confessed, his eyes still focused on the ground. He already felt too clingy and needy asking bloody Granger for this without seeing the inevitable pity on her face. He didn’t want pity. He wanted answers. “I need to know there’s nothing wrong with me.”

Warmth pricked at Hermione’s eyes at the last portion, but she blinked it away. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Of course,” she agreed softly.

“I’d like to be left alone now, please. I just want to change my shirt and take a walk,” he mumbled, brushing his hair from his face and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

She nodded almost imperceptibly and turned slowly to walk back towards the Three Broomsticks before stopping to call out after him.

“Will I be seeing you tonight?”

“What?”

“At the little party Ginny’s throwing. Will you be there? I’d like for you to come, if you’re not too busy.”

Shit, he had completely forgotten what day it was. His dramatics had probably ruined her birthday. Her eighteenth one too! As far as he knew, it was an important one for Muggles. He had really fucked this one up, hadn’t he?

He supposed the right thing to do was to make it up to her. That’s what his heart was telling him.

“Sure. I bet I could… find time in my schedule. And uh… could you explain this situation to Pans and Theo?” She nodded graciously, and he displayed a slight smile before turning around. She returned the gesture with a small wave before running back inside to her newfound Slytherin friends.

 _Friends in Slytherin! Good ones at that,_ she thought with a smirk. _Harry and Ron would have a cow over it. Who would’ve thought?_


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets ready for her party unwillingly, has a conversation with a new friend, and ends up enjoying herself before she is met with a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I have been atrocious about updates lately, enjoy this longer chapter in only two weeks! Also, try to find the AWAE reference!

“I don’t know, Gin,” Hermione murmured, crinkling her nose at the red lace and satin cocktail dress Ginny had forced her to be in for the party. “It’s kind of a casual affair, and this isn’t really my style.”

“Oh, but you look so good in it, and it’s too big for me! It’s very casual sexy!” Ginny complained, sighing exaggeratedly. “Are you sure you won’t wear it?”

“I’m just not comfortable in it,” she responded apologetically, slipping out of it to reveal a basic camisole. Ginny was desperately trying to doll her up for the party in thirty minutes, and Hermione was rejecting every one of her choices, whether it was too short or too revealing or just not comfortable. She respected Ginny’s choices in fashion(and had to admit her stunning best friend looked quite good), but they weren’t for her.

“Well then, I have nothing! I can’t believe you didn’t have the good sense to bring anything fashionable, Hermione!” Ginny grumbled, swatting her friend on the arm and collapsing on her bed.

“And I can’t believe you didn’t have the good sense to know that I don’t care nearly as much about looking good as you do!” she retorted, smiling faintly when Ginny mouth quirked up in amusement.

“Touche, but what are you going to wear?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that we do not have to be dressed up for my party! Frankly, I don’t think anyone wants to be dressed up for this party!”

“I told you, ‘Mione, it’s not dressing up! I’m not making you wear a dress robe! It’s only trying to look good!”

Suddenly, someone burst through the door of the dorm and dashed over to her trunk, rifling through her plethora of clothes.

Ginny was glaring daggers at the Slytherin. Pansy’s new friendship with her best friend troubled her, all of Slytherins did. It completely was not fair that in three jolly weeks, she and Hermione were thick as thieves. It was supposed to be her and her best friend against the world, two brave hearts against evil.

But now, her name had been tacked on to their little clique. She wasn’t as integrated into their circle as weeks couldn’t overpower years of friendship, but her name could be heard fairly regularly in their conversations, especially with Pansy who had a sore lack of female company besides the occasional romp out with Astoria.

The ambition and kindness of Pansy Parkinson, the caring and humor of Theodore Nott, the sarcastic wisdom of Blaise Zabini, and the cunning intellect of Draco Malfoy... and the clever and compassionate Hermione Granger? Formerly their sworn enemies, the ones that she and Hermione used to whisper about furiously under bedsheet tents, and now Hermione’s frequented company. It seemed out of place.

She knew that Hermione was level-headed, that she had no reason to judge them when they had proven themselves time and time again, but envy was a monster that swallowed her whole.

“Oh, sorry, girls,” Pansy apologized hastily. “I just have this one skirt that I wanted to wear for your party, Hermione, and I haven’t done my makeup or my hair...”

Ginny gave her a pointed look while Hermione groaned. “Why do people care so much about one bloody gathering? What makes it different from any other party where everyone gets smashed and does something they’ll regret? I’m the bloody Head Girl! I shouldn’t be encouraging this! I’m the one who goes around the corridors catching people for improper sexual conduct every night! Why do people want to attend this so much?”

Truth was, she knew why. Parties between fifth, sixth, and seventh years used to be a common affair in Hogwarts. Some random student would whisper to their friends who would pass it on until every student fifteen and older was crowded in the Room of Requirement or in a common room.

This year, these clandestine gatherings seemed to be the lifeline for joy, the only hope of having a good time during what seemed like ages of war. And especially when you’re celebrating the embodiment of hope for some people, people tended to care.

“You know why,” Pansy said softly, finally finding the skirt she was looking for. It was a deep crimson suede skater skirt, and Hermione looked at it and suppressed a giggle.

As if some unspoken joke between them, Pansy laughed and scolded playfully, “Come off it, Hermione.” Ginny’s scowl seemed to intensify, and she looked down at the ground, hoping her veil of red hair would hide it.

“I told you!” Hermione insisted, covering her mouth as a fit of laughter escaped. “And you called me batty!”

“In my defense, red usually isn’t my color!” Pansy claimed with feigned exasperation, shaking her head disapprovingly.

“Oh really? I didn’t know. How very Slytherin of you,” Hermione drawled, her eyes dragging over Pansy’s current ensemble of green wool sweater and emerald earrings.

“Shut up,” Pansy laughed, and Ginny felt unwarranted fury bubble up in her chest. Hermione looked over at the sixth year with mild concern, her eyebrows furrowing.

“You know, Gin, I think you and Pans would get along well! You both have an obsession with clothes, that’s for sure. Pans wants to be a designer if- when the war ends.” Hermione looked at her hopefully, and Pansy nodded with a wide grin.

“Hermione’s told me so much about you, and it’s a shame we haven’t gotten an opportunity to talk.” Her green eyes sparkled with possibility, and she smiled amiably at Ginny.

“Great, and then we can hold hands and skip,” Ginny thought, but what she really did was plaster on a fake smile for her Hermione’s sake and nod stiffly. Pansy giggled softly and turned her attention back to Hermone.

“Great! Hermione, why don’t you wear that dark green sweater dress from Lav’s? It isn’t formal, but it flatters you,” she suggested, stooping down to sift through her trunk. She grabbed something out of it. “And here. Wear these.” She put a long necklace with a small moon shaped charm in Hermione’s waiting hand. “I already know Weasley is a genius with makeup charms, so I’ll let her help you with that. I have to get ready.”

With that, she walked out to the showers, leaving Hermione and Ginny alone once again.

“You know, ‘Mione, maybe we should go to Hogsmeade together some time this weekend. Just you and me, like it used to be,” Ginny hinted with specific emphasis on the just you and me. Pugface Parkinson be damned, she would make her own inside jokes(on top of the ones they already had).

“We haven’t done that in quite some time,” Hermione agreed with a light-hearted grin. Her face morphed suddenly. Her eyes softened and she grabbed Ginny’s hand to get her attention. “You know, Gin… you don’t have to be envious of Pansy or of anyone else.”

“Envious? I’m not jealous of those snivelling Slytherins,” Ginny muttered, even as her face flushed red. Hermione raised an eyebrow at the red-head, and Ginny sighed in concession.

“Okay, maybe I do, just a little bit. The war has torn so many people apart, put divides between our own little family, and a part of me feels like the Slytherins, the people who were our enemies for the longest time, are intruding upon it, like they’re cheating their way in. Until your fourth year, I was just your best friend’s little sister. It’s only when the Yule Ball came around, and we used each other as a sounding board for advice, and the DA formed that we started to bond.”

She smiled at the recollection, remembering nights whispering to each other in the common room, how Hermione always told her not to fret about boys, that someone would eventually recognize her.

“Now, it hasn’t even been a month and you and Pu- Pansy are the best of friends, and by that extension, you have access to an entire other circle of people with… fascinating backstories, will power enough to abandon their family for the side of justice-except for Malfoy, I don’t know what they see in him-, people who’re your own age, similar intelligence and interests. Sometimes… sometimes it feels like I’m watching you leave our humble little world, ‘Mione.”

She looked up at the brunette dulled and glazed over eyes. Hermione was also less than the picture of composure. She scooched closer to Ginny and wrapped an arm around her.

“I might have new friends. Maybe I have found good company in those we thought were despicable. Maybe people change, and maybe, for the first time since Harry and Ron left, I’ve found… this probably false sense of contentment with a group of people, no matter how much grief Malfoy gives me,” she laughed, blinking away moisture.

“But you’re part of it, Ginny. You, Harry… and Ron, you will always be part of me. You formed who I am today, and if we win this shitty war, you’ll continue to shape me in ways I don’t understand. Love isn’t quantifiable, and therefore not finite. You’re still my truest friend, Ginny, and despite our differences, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

After a moment, Ginny wrapped one of her arms around her friend, and they stayed like that for a minute. In that comfortable silence, Ginny knew that even if she would never be completely at ease with the people her family loved to villainize, she would always be loved by her best friend.

_________________

Hermione crept into the Room a half hour later, hair half up and half down with a few easy charms and light makeup applied. She found it batty that her own party was in full prime without her, the supposed host, even though Ginny had organized the entire thing against her will. She had even charmed an extra wall protected by a Protego so that no one unwanted got in, topped off with a Muffliato to hide the blaring music.

She scanned the crowd and spotted the redhead easily. Even in this crowd, it wasn’t hard to spot the flame of ginger in a short, black flowered white dress, comfortable, casual, and easy to move in.

She wove her way through, but while she wasn’t looking, bumped straight into someone.

“Watch it, will you?” the person grumbled, before finally looking at who they had run into. When he saw who it was, his eyes widened and cheeks colored with embarrassment. “Oh, Granger,” he said sheepishly. “That probably wasn’t the best thing to say to the woman of the hour, was it?”

“No, I suppose it wasn’t,” she laughed, crossing her arms and brushing a stray curl out of her face. “We keep running into each other today, don’t we? I actually wasn’t sure you’d come,” she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders before a smile lifted the edges of her mouth, and she added, “I’m glad you did.”

“Who am I to deny the request of birthday girl herself?” he shrugged, running a hand through his hair before stuffing his hands back in his pockets.

“No over gelled hair tonight?” she giggled, gesturing to the fluffy tussle on his head. “I thought that was the ‘Ferret-face’ signature!”

“Theo just had to use the last of mine until the new bottles came in. Something about his company’s owls getting a bad bout of some kind of salmonella. And then he had the audacity to tell me that the place I got mine from wasn’t nearly as good.” He made a face, and Hermione noted how his nose scrunched cutely, a snapshot of the brief glimpses of the true innocence that she knew was in his heart.

Truth be told, she liked his hair this way. It wasn’t prim and proper, a dignified and orderly look for the heir of a vast estate. It was reminiscent of who they were supposed to be: teenagers, just barely finding their way through the world, trying and sometimes failing to morph into young adults, making mistakes and laughing it off with friends.

“Well, for the record, I think you look just as handsome without it. Somehow more… natural, fluffy. It makes you look more approachable.” She was unable to keep a grin off her face as he drew his hand out of his pocket to touch it experimentally again.

“And what if my intention was to scare people off?” he argued, crossing his arms over his chest with his signature smirk.

“Then you’re not doing a very good job of it,” she snorted, reaching up to ruffle his hair. He scowled, patting it back into a temporary position.

Secretly, her heart warmed that the only thing she was getting out of that gesture was a joking frown. A week ago, he would’ve froze her out. After that afternoon, something had changed in the air between them. Some kind of connection had formed, like their own little secret that could only be spoken through their tentative banter and careful laughter.

“You’re on thin ice.. No one messes with my hair, Granger,” he chided, attempting a serious tone and trying and failing to keep a grin off his face.

“Hermione,” she corrected, shaking her head.

“What?”

“If whatever this… mutual acknowledgement of a bond between us is- a friendship, whatever you want to call it- persists, and if I’m going to be helping you, it’s only fair you call me by my given name, don’t you think?”

“Doesn’t sound half bad, I’ll admit,” he conceded. “Hermione.” He added it on at the end purely to see how her name sounded on his tongue. It was foreign, but it felt natural. It was a warm sound in a time of bitter cold.

“Come on, Draco, let’s go find Pansy. I’ve been meaning to talk to Zabini more. I’ve gotten to know Pansy and Theo adequately, but I’ve haven’t really gotten a chance to speak to him all that much…” She grabbed him by his right shirt sleeve(the one that was farthest from her, yet she showed through subtle actions that she was aware of him) and led him around the room.

As for Draco, he watched her talk with a look in his eyes that one might call a type of fondness, a newfound amity for the clever Gryffindor.

_________________

An hour later, connected by their common thread of Hermione, the two ‘groups’ of dormmates started to mingle.

Blaise and Luna were talking to each other in a far corner of the room, soft voices with gentle laughter with all the tenderness of a burgeoning crush emanating from them. It was the reason no one had tried to approach them over the course of the party.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve talked, you know,” she said to him, laughing softly after he had made a comment about how he would’ve talked to her much earlier if it weren’t for his mother’s views.

“What?”

“Slughorn’s Christmas party. You made a disdainful comment about Harry in front of me, and you couldn’t stop laughing when Malfoy was caught,” she said matter-of-factly, looking at him with amusement with always dreamy silvery eyes.

“You remember that?” he asked with a small chuckle, his head lowering to look at the floor for a moment before meeting her eyes.

She nodded immediately. “Even in your most crass moments, you’re not an easy person to forget, Blaise Zabini.”

“Says you, Luna Lovegood.”

Meanwhile, plopped down in a chair and exhausted from the droves of sweaty adolescents, Ginny and Pansy had actually started to talk.

“And so, I run right up to him and plant one right on him with everyone watching,” Ginny slurred, having had one too many firewhiskeys. “‘Twas the best day of my life.”

Pansy laughed drunkenly, her fit of giggles a bit of an overreaction if she was sober. Over the course of the night, after they had a bit of alcohol in them and they had allowed the barriers to come down, Hermione’s two girl friends seemed to be getting along better.

“Well, Theo and I…” she giggled at the memory, smiling in the direction of her definitely more sober boyfriend who was debating the semantics of Muggle traditions with Hermione and Draco after she had told the group about the Easter Bunny. “It was...summer after fourth year? We were fifteen and had been dancing around each other for about a year. Our parents were meeting for dinner, so they left us alone inside my house. We were just… sitting there, when something absolutely mad must’ve come over me, and I just asked him whether he liked me. And he looked away and smiled that little cute crooked grin thing he does, and the next minute, we were kissing. I don’t know what happened in between those two events. After he kissed me, I knew I had to have him.”

She laughed, pulling her knees to her chest and meeting his eyes. He smiled warmly at her, taking a moment to blow her a kiss while Draco made a show of gagging before returning to the conversation.

“Let’s go over there. I miss him,” Pansy pouted girlishly. She stood up, grabbing Ginny’s hand and pulling her up.

“I’ll join you in a minute. I really need to use the loo.”

Pansy nodded and swayed slightly as she skipped over to the small circle of people arguing.

“Hey, what are we talking about?” Pansy interrupted Draco in the middle of a sentence, throwing an arm around Hermione and Theo.

“Let me get this straight: you go around singing in screechy voices to random people’s houses and demand food? And this is legal?” Theo exclaimed in disbelief, snaking an arm around Pansy’s waist as he always did. It was second nature to them now, the little gestures and the small touches that displayed their love. Not to the world, just to each other.

“Caroling and wassailing are time honored traditions!” Hermione defended, crossing her arms over her chest. She, unlike Pansy and Ginny, was only on her second glass of firewhiskey mixed with soda and orange.

“That’s loony,” Draco snorted, gulping back a large sip. “It could be drugged! Do you realize how unsafe that is? Also, I would not be motivated to give a bunch of annoying amateurs anything!”

“The point of it is to promote Christmas spirit and giving! Whatever, I wouldn’t expect anything different about a bunch of purebloods with your elite masquerades and designer clothing,” she sniffed playfully, throwing her nose in the air with exaggeration.

“And now you look like Zabini’s mother,” Theo snorted. “Woman’s had 7 husbands, and all of them have mysteriously gone missing right in the peak of their careers. So obviously, its a coincidence!”

The group laughed over that, and Ginny soon returned, passing a slip of paper to Hermione.

“Corner told me to get this to you. I opened it, but its blank. Probably a prank, but he said it was urgent,” she shrugged, her bottom lip sticking out and eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Hermione too was perplexed until she saw the orange ribbon that tied it up. She unfurled the note, and writing was clear as day to her.

_Dear HG,_

_We request your presence on the Astronomy Tower ASAP._

_OoTP_

With a frown, she excused herself from the group reluctantly. Sometimes, she allowed the fact that she was technically a rebel spy to slip from her mind, make believe that it was a regular seventh year at Hogwarts. Being sharply brought back to the real world was a sobering experience.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom to fix my hair, or it’ll be a knotted mess tomorrow,” she chuckled in a tone she hoped was careless.

She snuck off into the dark, not bothering with concealment spells because professors would just assume she was on patrols.

Finally she arrived at the Tower, looking around in the moon illuminated darkness. “Hello? Is anybody there?”

She drew her wand just in case, pointing it towards the open air.

And all of a sudden, two brooms landed with a small thump. She gasped at an unnatural volume, not at the brooms, but at the people on it.

She couldn't find the words to say anything, only running up to the first boy and throwing her arms around him. 

"I've missed you."


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has visitors and she ponders her life with a companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I went on a 1-2 weeks writing hiatus for ALL BOOKS recently, but I hope you enjoy! Draco and Hermione are starting to get quite a bit closer ;)

“I’ve missed you,” she gasped into his ear, her grip as strong as iron around the tall boy’s neck as tears pricked her eyes. She stepped back with an uncontrollable grin and went to hug the other boy, if for a briefer period of time after the things that had transpired between them. “Oh Harry, Ron, what are you doing here?”

They were both sickly with lost weight, grimy without the luxury of fragrant soaps and scrubs like her, and bruised from the wild’s toll, but two people had never looked better to her.

The bespectacled boy spoke up with a small smile. “We have some things that can’t be said through letters because of how confidential they are, so we thought we’d surprise you. Happy birthday, Hermione.”

“Eighteen’s a big one for you muggleborn lot, isn’t it?” Ron chimed in, brushing a piece of frizzy hair out of her face.

She was surprised to find that the usual shiver that run up her spine at more than friendly touches like that had all but vanished, replaced with a fondness and camaraderie that was more akin to her relationship with Harry. She paid no mind to it; it was probably because she had bigger issues than romance right now, and true love was being overpowered by relief and joy.

“I suppose it is, but we have bigger fish to fry now. No matter how much I missed you, you boys’d better hurry up before Pans- uh, the others wonder where I am. Gin, in all her glory, decided to throw me a party.” She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help an affectionate smile. For all her qualms, she wouldn’t trade these people for the world.

“Of course she did,” Harry chuckled fondly, a faraway and wistful look in his emerald eyes anyhow. His pupils flickered to the window near the Room, and you could tell he was conjuring an image of the gorgeous girl. Ron also smiled at the mention of his vivacious sister. “Anyway, McGonagall made sure to put extra concealment wards on us before we came here. As long as she can keep Snape and Filch from over here, we should be fine for the next…” he glimpsed a small clip on his broom. “Four minutes.”

Hermione’s smile dulled a little at the seemingly miniscule portion of time, but she took it and as grateful for what she got.

“So? What is it?” she demanded, her arms crossing over her chest impatiently.

“We have an inside man,” Ron explained excitedly. “Someone who’s pretending to work for the Death Eaters, but is with us. That means… McGonagall said that you’re free of your duties. No need to be buddy-buddy with the ferret anymore,” he spat with disdain, shooting a dirty look to nowhere. “I saw you getting close to the Slytherins inside, and you’re a bloody good actress, but there’s no need anymore. Tell Ginny and the others that too. I assume they’re in on it since they were talking too.”

Hermione felt guilt swallow her up and drop her into a sink hole. She had all but forgotten about that mission. Talking to Pansy and Theo around classes and in the common room was second nature now, and her expert intuition had a feeling that she was about to gain an entirely new circle of friends.

“Actually… I think I forgot about that little assignment, terrible as it sounds,” she cringed, bracing herself for their reactions. “The entire thing between our two groups started as me trying to fulfill it, but I think what’s been happening is… natural. We’ve-or at least I’ve-grown closer to them. Pansy Parkinson has especially been a friend to me these past weeks.”

“You and Pugface?” Ron blurted disbelievingly, his mouth falling open slightly. “I thought they were all elitists!”

“No, actually. A lot of people are, but not that specific group. All of them are changed, changing, or… trying to change,” she proclaimed, adding the last bit for Draco Malfoy. As frustrated as she got, she would continue to put in an effort, and he would continue to change little by little as he had been doing. She had faith in him.

“That’s… unbelievable, but really great,” Harry chortled, brushing matted locks of raven aside. “I’m glad at least one of us is getting somewhere. We’ve only just found one, but haven’t found a way to destroy it yet.”

Ron looked a little less convinced. “Even Malfoy?”

“Yes… even Draco,” she trailed off with a small smile, still a little in denial of it herself. He hadn’t ever denounced the Death Eaters, but he had spoken of his disdain, even distanced himself from influences like Crabbe and Goyle since she had met him.

He was trying(unlike so many people) and she’d be damned if she thought less of him for not severing his family ties and abandoning the Malfoy wealth with nowhere to go when so much more was at stake for him than Pansy or Theodore.

As for Ron, he didn’t like the brief but dreamy grin that had come over her face at the mention of his name, his first name no less! They’d been gone less than two months, for Merlin’s sake! His worries were instantaneously erased when she flashed another version of that adorable nerdy grin at him and Harry.

“So… inside man? Who is it?” she inquired in a hushed tone, head turning to the doors behind her briefly and making sure they were closed.

“Even we don’t know. The Order just said that it wouldn’t be anyone we remotely suspected, an alumnus most likely. Only top officials know,” Harry answered with an almost imperceptible shake of his head and frown.

There was a long, comforting silence between the three of them as they fell into their old patterns. Hermione’s logical mind was working through the information, Harry was thinking about next steps for military tactics, and Ron about how to best protect students from harm.

Ron’s eyes fell on Hermione where she had a faraway look in her eyes. He looked like he was about to say something when Harry interrupted.

“Bloody hell. We have to go, Ron. We’ll hover for a few minutes a few dozen meters from the castle to make sure the coast is clear before going,” he explained, sighing sadly as he looked around the castle where all his best memories were. He turned to his best friend with a rueful frown. “God, we’ll miss you, Hermione. I don’t know how we’re surviving without you right now.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line as her coffee eyes glassed over with unshed tears. “I miss you boys so very much. Stay safe, please,” she implored, first hugging Harry tightly and then placing a light, almost friendly kiss on Ron’s cheek. “I love you both.”

They waved as they rode off into the night sky, concealed by Disillusionment charms. She blinked away oncoming tears, deep in thought as she thought over the last few months of her life, what the coming months would look like. Right now, Hogwarts wasn’t completely taken over. It was easy to try and fade into the background and pretend everything was normal for a few days before words like ‘assignment’, ‘Horcrux’, or ‘inside man’ brought her crashing down to the present.

Just a few seconds after they rode off, someone opened the door to the tower. She swiveled in shock, relaxing when she realized who it was.

“I thought I heard voices, but there’s no one here,” he shrugged, stepping closer to her cautiously. “The girls were wondering where you are. Since I don’t want them to get caught by McGonagall absolutely shit faced, I volunteered.”

“Good call,” she laughed, trying to cover her melancholia.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” He stepped closer so they were shoulder to shoulder, both looking at the star speckled sky for polar opposite reasons.

Hermione was trying to hold on to Harry and Ron’s essences, to her old life and how simply joyful it used to be. The trouble in the last couple weeks of school seemed trivial now. She’d give anything to be back there.

Draco was trying to let go of everything he had been raised into, release every ounce of ripping pain that his father put him through each day into the chilly September night air. He’d give anything to progress, step forward into a life where he could be what he wanted.

“Just… thinking.” She glanced over at him for the first time. The look on his face was surprisingly innocent, such a far cry from the scowl or smirk he usually donned. He looked so natural here, hair tussled and ungroomed, formal shirt sleeves rolled up past his forearms, hands stuffed in his pockets as he gazed into the night sky, the moon illuminating the porcelain contours of his chiseled face.

“That’s never good.” He meant it sarcastically, for it to come out with a biting edge, but it came out way more gently than he would have liked.

“It’s just that… things change so quickly,” she continued, paying little mind to the well-intentioned jibe. “We’re so caught up with wishing for what’s far away and not realizing what’s right beside us all along, and one day we wake up and wonder why we let it pass through our fingers. I just… I don’t want to do that again. I want the world to change, I want to fight for it, and I want to find some place, some person that I can really be content with. But it’s all so… far away.”

He swallowed thickly, a tentative hand coming to her shoulder and squeezing it gently. If she was surprised at the gesture, she didn’t show it, but he felt her arm tense and then relax again under his touch.

“I’m the worst person to be saying this, but don’t lose hope, Hermione. I think I speak for all of us cowardly wandering souls when I say you’re the hope of this entire movement you’re part of. Things will change. I know it, and when have I ever been wrong?”

He threw in the arrogant joke at the end to retain at least some of the dignity he had, sated when she threw back her head and laughed heartily. “Never, except for Transfiguration,” she teased, nudging him playfully. “You’re awful at that.”

“Not as awful as that lover boy of yours,” he scowled, nudging her back. “And let’s face it: I could beat you in Potions if I wanted to.”

“Not a bloody chance!”

As they teased each other with almost no malice, Harry and Ron looked on their figures from high in the sky with shock. They couldn’t make out their features from this altitude, but the glorious mop of platinum gave her company away.

“They seem... cozy,” Ron marveled, seeing her hit his arm and blush at something he had said. “Our Hermione and Malfoy.”

Harry detected the note of bitterness in his tone. “Hermione’s… finding comfort without us. God knows she needs it.”

“You’re right, I guess. I just… I wish she didn’t need to, you know? Especially with the ferret! Of all the people in the world!”

Hermione was blissfully unaware at her schoolgirl crush’s conversation with her best friend many meters above them and remained that way.

She and Draco stayed far away from the raging bash for another hour, more in their element near the quiet night sky, reserved people away from a public party. Sometimes they talked, Hermione recommending a good book, Draco asking her something about Muggles, and sometimes they sat on the floor in comfortable silence, doing nothing but sitting in the other’s company and looking out into the night. They could hear the gears turn in the other’s head.

For someone so inclined to always speak, she didn’t mind. No, she didn’t mind at all.


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco receives a disheartening letter, lashes out, and falls out with a friend because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was like PULLING TEETH to write, so it might not be as good. :(

_Draco:_

_I thought that you of all people would know better than this. You are the Malfoy family heir, esteemed, dignified, elite. And yet, the behavior you display is nothing less than common and immature._

_I’ve instructed you very well on how you should be interacting with people. I’ve told you the appropriate company and how to command them well. I was pleased your first few years at Hogwarts with the company you kept until they all turned their backs on the right side of society to become a bunch of heathen rebels._

_But now I hear you’ve kept in contact with them. I was disappointed enough until Alecto Carrow reported that you’ve been spending time with Hermione Granger. Hermione bloody Granger, Draco!_

_She’s against everything you stand for, yet you tolerate her. No, not just tolerate, it seems you enjoy her company! She’s a mudblood, a traitor and a fake witch._

_You’ve dealt a severe blow to our reputation. If you weren’t so close to the completion of your education now, I would send you right off to Durmstrang for a few years. Needless to say, when you come home for the holidays, there will be consequences. Severe ones._

_Final arrangements with the Greengrasses are set. Once you graduate, the details will be planned(fittings, colors, and the like). You are to be married July 9th, 2000 to give you time to adjust to the Malfoy company where you will take over one or two of its acquisitions. You’ll conceive an heir by 2002 at the latest, and you and all further generations will be at the Dark Lord’s beck and call as all should be._

_Lucius Malfoy_

_And Draco, living in his little Hogwarts fantasy about getting along with muggle-borns and caring about mental health with Hermione, was brought sharply back to the real world, and that fall hurt more than any cut he could scrape into his skin._

_He remembered the dynastic plan set out for him, his life from now on. He recalled the events from a week and a half ago with what he wanted to be revulsion. Instead, it was longing to go back to that, to never have to worry about anything otherwise._

_He couldn’t let things like this fester. It would only make his transition harder._

____________________________

He walked to DADA briskly, hoping to avoid anyone that might question him about his mood. His head was low and his mouth was twisted into a scowl that had almost disappeared over the past week, and every student around him was wondering what brought it back.

He mumbled a string of curses under his breath when he heard two unmistakable voices from behind him.

“God, wait up, wouldn’t you? Not all of us have bloody giraffe legs!” Pansy called out while dragging a laughing Hermione Granger with her. 

“Calm down, would you? There’s at least five minutes until class starts,” Hermione chided, swatting Pansy on the arm. 

“But you and Draco are smart, and you make Carrow less intimidating to me,” she whined, walking faster to catch up to Draco’s quickening long strides. 

“Bold of you to assume we’re not equally as intimidated,” retorted Hermione, continuing to get dragged along as Pansy broke out into a slow half-jog.

Finally, they caught up to the tall boy with oblivious grins. 

“How’s my Sir Broods-A-Lot doing?” Pansy cooed playfully, reaching out to squeeze his cheek playfully as he turned his head away from her friendly gaze.

“Fine,” he snapped quickly, the answer coming out harsher than he meant it to. 

“Wow, does Baskin Robbins know about you?” Hermione mumbled under her breath with a disapproving frown.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he glared, crossing his arms as they walked briskly.

“Nothing, just that someone seems pretty icy to me,” she remarked off-handedly, not meeting his eyes and choosing to pick at her short, pristine fingernails instead. “Something wrong?”

She dropped her hands by her sides and looked him straight in the eyes, her brown eyed gaze piercing his gray ones, the veiled intensity of it spreading a shiver through his body and making his heart thrum in a way he had never experienced. 

Despite all this, he cooly retorted, “Nothing at all. Shall I proceed, Granger?”

She fumed at the use of her last name. They’d been on first name basis for all of eleven days(but who was counting?), and yet she’d come to associate the cold way he spat out her last name with animosity. 

“I don’t really think we want to be the first ones in Alecto Carrow’s class,” Pansy reminded softly, her kind heart getting the best of her sarcastic side as a gentle hand landed on his shoulder. 

“I’m not a coward, Parkinson!”

He shrugged it off in a rough way that he had never exposed in front of the loving girl, and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest as Pansy’s eyes flashed with deep hurt and Hermione’s with disappointment. Both of them had a distinct look of betrayal on their faces.

“Right then. I know when to leave you alone,” Pansy declared bitterly, her small hand curling into a fist as she stomped forward without them. He regretted it with every fiber of his being when he caught her quickly brush her eyes with a hand, her body stiffening with the signs he’d often seen when she tried to hold in tears.

“And now you’ve done it. I thought you were better than making your best friends weep for God knows what reason. Things were going so well too,” Hermione seethed, glaring daggers at him as she sprinted behind the emerald-eyed brunette. 

With a deep breath, he composed himself before he too burst into tears from how badly this day was already going. His eyes landed on the two girls. Hermione had an arm around her friend, talking animatedly and soothing Pansy by patting her shoulder. Occasionally, one of them would look backwards to where he was lagging, their melancholy eyes growing incandescent(in Hermione’s case) or weighed down by a form of betrayal(in Pansy’s case).

He sat down beside her in DADA(damn Alecto for making them partners) tiredly, running a hand over his face in contemplation. His stormy gray eyes had dulled, making them look almost numb except for the flicker of defeated, desolate pain in them. 

But Hermione was fiercely loyal to her friends, and she saw only crimson when she looked at the grieving boy’s face. All rationality and understanding went out the window, and that was something she’d come to regret later.

The assignment was up on the board already, and she scoffed when he only put his head in his hands after sitting down, not caring to notice how cautious he was to make sure his sleeves stayed covering his arms. 

“You going to help me or sit there like a bloody useless sloth?” she snapped, opening her thick textbook to the appropriate page and rolling out clean parchment. 

“Sloth’s preferable,” he muttered back to her. 

She flashed a very specific finger at him before getting to work on it herself, eyebrows knitted together in an attempt at fierce concentration. He felt himself soften and didn’t welcome it, trying his hardest to build the walls again. But when she already knew his darkest secret… what was the point?

No, he heard his father’s voice chastise. You’re wrong as always. The Malfoy heir can’t participate in such frippery, such freakish displays. She’s a mudblood, and you’re a good-for-nothing.

He hated everything about the Death Eaters. He hated everything they stood for. He hated that he couldn’t be friends with someone because of something they couldn’t control, but he loved his family for whatever reason. He wouldn’t be able to kill his father if it came to it, and he’d sooner be shot down in the middle of battle if his otherwise caring and doting mother faced death.

So he sucked it up and did the work with minimal chit chat. The second they had finished, both of them swiftly turned it in and sat down again, only to take out books instead of talking to each other like they would have done. Hermione was shooting him dirty looks out of the corner of her eye, but he paid little mind to it. She didn’t know what all of this was about, and it wasn’t fair to hold it against her when the one who decided their truce was annulled in the first place was him.

He stole glances at her too, but not for the same reasons. Maybe it was the thrill of the forbidden fruit, the one person’s friendship he desired but could never have. Maybe it was loneliness projecting itself on the nearest person, a person who wasn’t conventionally attractive, but still endearing and cute all the same. He had a niggling feeling it was more than that, but his logical mind spoke otherwise, and he was never one to ‘listen to his heart’.

Thankfully, the period passed by quickly before they each all but ran out of the room.

As luck would have it, he collided into a small, soft body near the doorway as each tried to make their way out of the room quickly as possible. His eyes flitted to his arm, praying to God that no cuts had reopened. Thankfully, the impact hadn’t done anything, and he exhaled in relief. 

“Sorry, uh, you go,” he mumbled, stepping back to let her through. 

She laughed hollowly and rolled her eyes. “Say what you will about their moods, you can never knock the chivalry out of a Malfoy,” she snarked before marching out, wanting to catch up to Pansy.

“And you can never knock the arrogance out of a Granger,” he muttered softly as he trailed behind, his eyes darting to the floor with hope she hadn’t heard it.

“Now what was that?” she fumed, spinning so that her mass of bushy hair whipped around as she met his cool and calm eyes, a great contrast to hers that were fully blown in rage. She spat out words in a quiet furiousness, taking care to make sure no one else heard but him. 

“I seem to recall you being the one to decide to freeze out Pansy and for that matter, me. I’m so bloody tired of you repeatedly treating all of us badly for no fault of our own! Hurt me, that’s fine. I can deal with it because its happened before. But these days, you’re lashing out at your best friends, my friends too now. We’ve all had rough days. I’ve had a rough seven years! You try having a near death experience every other week! But never once did I lash out as badly as you’ve been.”

“So all that talk about understanding my feelings and prioritizing mental health days goes out the window when you have a vendetta, is that it?” he mocked with an exaggerated scoff. 

“You don’t get to use mental health as an excuse to treat people badly!”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t beat myself up every day for being this way? Have you ever for once in your self-absorbed life thought that maybe everything I do to upset you isn’t my fault? That I have a life outside of pissing you off? We’re not all side characters in the Hermione Granger theater special, alright? Just because you have a peachy life outside of being Little Miss Perfect in school doesn’t mean we all have lap dog lover boys and doting friends to come home to. Some of us have elitist fathers that find out about what company we’re keeping. Now if you’ll excuse me!” 

He pushed past her as she gaped at his retreating figure. “Go to hell!”

“Right back at you!”


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione talks with her friends and writes a heartfelt letter.

101 hours.

It had been 101 hours since she’d had a full conversation with Draco Malfoy.

There were always the little half-hearted and obligated conversations in between-patrols at night, schoolwork, the passing of something in class- but they were never the same.

A hundred hours was also the amount of time that she missed Draco Malfoy. She didn’t expect to feel anything to that effect, but she found herself missing that intolerable little ferret, and she missed him bad.

She missed his snarky comments, she missed that show of arrogant bravado only he could pull off, he missed his ability to somehow make her laugh and be a complete arse at the same time, she missed those rare vulnerable moments where his steely eyes would soften and he’d make a grudging confession, she missed his quiet laugh at stupid jokes when he thought no one was paying attention, and she missed how they’d pretend to despise each other with the quippy banter even though they were probably closer to friends. 

It was almost enough to overpower her pig-headed pride. The fact that he was probably hurting right now, that she was the only one he had confided in with the state of his mental health, that perhaps she had been bitter and angry if he was really in a bad situation had her marching out of bed at two in the morning ready to talk it out before realizing the time, and by the time it was a reasonable hour, she had lost all her nerve. 

Imagine it! The likes of Hermione Granger losing her nerve to talk to a silly boy! She despised the strange effect he had on her, something familiar that a girlish, immature version of herself used to associate with tousled ginger hair and reflective blue eyes, not carefully gelled platinum blonde and reserved silver. She shook the entire idea of it out of her head. 

“Its been four days since I’ve seen you really smile,” Ginny announced without introduction that Friday afternoon, plopping down next to Hermione on her bed. She swung her legs around to lay down next to her best friend, dark caramel brown and blazing ginger mingling in halos around their heads. 

“I’m quite sure I don’t know what you mean,” fibbed Hermione, absentmindedly brushing a wild lock out of her face. “Of course I’m not completely happy seeing as we’re on the cusp of a full on battle, but I’m as happy as I can be now.”

“And it’s only a coincidence that you and Malfoy stopped talking just then?” Ginny raised an eyebrow skeptically, nudging Hermione’s foot with hers. 

Hermione made a show of scoffing, blowing out a huff of air. “That bloody ferret would be privileged to be in my head, Ginny. It blows if he can’t realize that.”

“Believe me, I know. I of all people know how undeserving he is of your thoughts, but are you sure he’s not in them anyways?” Ginny covered Hermione’s hand with her own, shooting her a sympathetic look. 

Hermione didn’t have the strength or the skills to lie to someone who could read her so well. “I… He may occupy my thoughts sometimes. I just… our argument keeps repeating in my head.”

“Ah, yes, the infamous hallway whispering match,” Ginny nodded along gravely. News of the fairly private yet heated argument the two had in the hallway had spread through Hogwarts walls like wildfire. Of course, students naturally tried to draw their own conclusions about what they were arguing about, from the most mundane of theories about homework to the most insane conspiracies about forgetting to use a contraceptive charm while they were together. As if!

“I’m not going to tell you as much as I’d like to because that’s his secret to tell, but… we both said some pretty horrific things, and I… this last part keeps echoing in my head, and more and more I’m thinking that I was…”

“A mythic bitch?” Ginny offered helpfully, her tone dripping with caustic sweetness.

“Exactly,” Hermione responded dryly, covering her face with her hands and groaning into them. “How is it that I can ace every class, but I’m so abrasive with any kind of friendly relationship?”

Ginny smiled with real kindness this time. “From what I’ve gathered, you were never really the most social. You met Harry and Ron, and you thought they were nice and decent and clung to them. You three got lucky finding each other. Maybe it’s possible that you’re scared of getting closer to Malfoy because well, he’s Malfoy! Your previous mortal enemy who still isn’t completely turned. It’s easy for you and Pansy or even you and Theodore because you’re vaguely agreeable. But with Malfoy? That boy tests you to the limits. You’re so similar and so different. He’s a challenge, and Hermione Granger hates not being able to do something.”

Hermione looked at her with wide eyes, her mouth falling open at the easy prediction. “How do you do that?”

“Not for everyone. I’m just good at reading the people I know. That’s why guys get so hot and bothered around me and why I can rile people up easily.” She flashed a devilish smile at her best friend, sitting up and patting her hair back into place. “I have Charms in 5. Meet Pans and I for lunch, hm?”

Hermione also sat up, pulling her hair back and braiding it down her shoulder haphazardly, strands falling out and brushing her face anyways. “Sure. I have Transfiguration with her anyways.”

Stepping out and splitting up into opposite hallways with a wave, Hermione spotted Pansy walking leisurely. She half-jogged and caught up, offering her a smile.

Pansy grinned in kind, fluttering her fingers at Hermione. “Hey, you. What’s up?”

“There’s a great possibility I might be a terrible person, that’s what,” she sighed with a glum smile. 

“You? If you’re a terrible person, there must be a special circle of hell for the rest of us,” Pansy snorted, rolling her emerald eyes and punching her on the shoulder lightly. She ignored Pansy’s self-deprecation. 

“Have you spoken to Draco at all?” Hermione asked, clutching her books close to her chest. 

Pansy’s eyes shifted towards the ground, and her small light pink lips pressed together. “He talks to Theo and occasionally to Blaise, but he can’t bring himself to face me after Monday. At least that’s what Theo conveyed. Why do you ask?”

“I just… we both said some less than friendly things, and I’m wondering if-if I was too harsh,” she admitted in a soft murmur, her brows knitting together as she entered a reverie again. She searched for answers in the replaying of the biting words he had said to her before storming out. She knew it would never show her an answer, but she still thought of them over and over. “All of us have really been going through it, but especially in his situation? Maybe I didn’t show enough empathy?”

Pansy suspired, nodding her head slowly. “I’m not going to deny that maybe you were a little out of line, but so was he. He gave us no warning that he didn’t want to talk to us or that he was going to be so harsh, but I always give him the benefit of the doubt because I’ve read some of the tamer letters his father sends him, and God… let’s just say they’re not exactly best friends. This is a complicated thing. You can’t label people as good or bad in real life, Draco especially. He’s the textbook definition of stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

“So you think I should maybe just… reach out, talk to him, see what’s in his mind and then make a decision?” Hermione’s teeth worried her lip as she thought out loud.

“Maybe, but… he won’t even talk to me, and he and I are like brother and sister, and you two are…”

“Complicated,” Hermione finished monotonously, softly groaning. “I don’t even know why I care so much. We’ve had plenty of arguments before and for worse.”

“You know why, Hermione. You both may be erratic in your affections to put it lightly, but you care about each other now. That’s what sets this spat apart. You’ll fix it if he wants to. Just… let him come to you on his own time, but make it known that you’re there?” she suggested with a half smile, shrugging at her own advice. She was one of those people that wanted to do anything to help and be kind, but never knew how to read someone for the life of her. That was all her Theo’s job.

Hermione nodded slowly, her lips curling into a frown until suddenly, “I’ll write him a letter! I’ll slip it into one of his books in DADA tomorrow.”

Pansy laughed and slung an arm around her shoulders. “See? You’re brilliant, darling.”

____________________________

_Dear Draco Malfoy,_

_We’ve had our fights before. In fact, we’ve had too many to count in these past seven years. In third year, I gave you the most painful slap you’ve probably ever received from a fourteen year old._

_I used to despise you, you know that? Well, of course you do because you used to despise me too. I came into this year with full intentions of hating you despite our constant close proximity with Head Person patrols, our converging interests and therefore classes, our NEWT subjects, etc. Some silly version of me had this cartoon story in my head, and you were the villain. You were the personality-less, arrogant side-character in my life._

_Then I got to know you, and I couldn’t fathom us clicking so well. It didn’t add up in my head. You were so similar to me in basic interests, and yet you still pushed me to the cusp of my boundaries. You challenged me, and my worst fear is failure. I know you hate this topic, but one of my worst fears right about now is letting someone like you, someone so beautifully intelligent and strong, be led astray. I’m sorry if you can’t accept it, but it is what it is._

_What I mean to say after this is that we’ve had fights over things much worse than this, yet this one seems so consequential because well, I hate to admit it, but I miss you, Draco Malfoy. You’re in my thoughts more than you have a right to despite your constant arse-like behavior._

_First off, I need to apologize for some of the things I said. They were out of line and probably too close to home. I need to be more understanding of your life and not compare it to mine, a kind of empathy that is almost unfathomable no matter how dire my situation gets. I will never know what it’s like to be truly alone in something._

_That said, I stand by the fact that what you’re doing is wrong, if justified. You never gave a warning sign. You can’t push away everyone you care about for no reason. Pansy’s hurt by you not talking to her more than anything else, and she won’t tell you that. You already know how I feel about you refusing to talk to anyone._

_If this has something to do with your parents like you implied, just let me know, alright? If you’re going to freeze me out, at least have a good reason, and I always have hope that you’ll join the Order even if it’s just to hide away at a safehouse. I know you’re not quite there, so I’ll drop it out of commiseration._

_You know my door’s always proverbially open. If you need a friend, talk to me. If I lash out again, I apologize for it in advance. This whole ‘new friendship with the previous enemy’ thing is new territory for me. Hell, just new friendship is new territory._

_I’ll close off now, but just give me some indication of your inclinations._

_Yours,_

_Hermione Jean Granger_


End file.
